


Sushi!

by Archangel Raphael (tsuduku)



Category: Good Omens, Good Omens (TV), Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett - Fandom
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Body Image, Chubby Aziraphale, Comfort, Crowley Loves his Houseplants (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Time, M/M, Moving In Together, Post-Apocalypse, Self-Esteem Issues, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), no beta we saunter vaguely downwards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 22:51:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20514812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuduku/pseuds/Archangel%20Raphael
Summary: Over 6,000 years worth of pushing each other away, Aziraphale and Crowley are now faced with nothing but the raw feelings they harbored for each other for so long. They must each overcome their own self consciousness, self loathing, and strong habit of repressing emotions after millennia of having lived this way.





	1. The Ritz

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Aftermath](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946875) by [Myusernameisineffable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myusernameisineffable/pseuds/Myusernameisineffable). 

> This was inspired by another fic called Aftermath by archive user Myusernameisineffable. I thoroughly enjoy reading it, and thought it would be therapeutic to write my own version to work through my own emotions and struggles. This is in no way trying to belittle or criticize the original fic that it's based off. I still keep reading that one and encourage you to read it as well if you're okay with such topics. 
> 
> Trigger warnings apply. This fic is mainly centered around eating disorders, anorexia, bulimia, binge eating. Please avoid this if you know it will trigger you and cause harm. This is merely a way to vent feelings through fiction and nothing more. Stay safe everyone!

_ "To the world" _

The two put their glasses of champagne together as a toast to the world, and most importantly, to each other. Now, having _ truly _evaded the wrath of their respective head officers, the pair was finally able to fully indulge in anything, and anyone, they wished. It was in this moment of true triumph that Crowley opted to do something he almost never did, eat. 

While neither of them _ needed _to eat, Aziraphale had developed a taste for human cuisine many millennia ago, and Crowley enjoyed watching the angel delight himself with all the flavors available. They had shared plenty of lunch dates throughout their time on Earth, but really a "lunch date" just meant Aziraphale enjoying whatever was on the menu, and Crowley watching him eat, occasionally accompanied by a glass of alcohol or coffee. This time around, the demon was feeling rather festive, and agreed to ordering a meal without a second thought, though nowhere near as much as what the angel had gotten for himself.

It had quite literally been centuries since Crowley had consumed anything other than alcohol, coffee, and the occasional cigarette. Neither angels nor demons needed food nor sleep as humans do, they still had to maintain the bodies they had been assigned for their time on Earth. They held similar functions to the human form, but were not quite the same. These bodies could still be injured, grow tired, become intoxicated, and be molded into different shapes and sizes via physical activity and optional nutrition. Each occult being assigned a body was of course made responsible for proper maintenance of it, though most opted for simple miracles to get the job done.

Crowley, for one, was quite afraid of food in the beginning. Having seen what a bite of an apple did to Adam and Eve. Then over the first few hundred years he watched the effects food had on human bodies. Too much they grew fat. Too little they grew thin and weak. Sometimes there were things they _ couldn't _ingest or they would suddenly fall ill or even die. Yes that was more than enough to make any demon apprehensive about eating. Then it was about a few hundred years after the beginning that Crowley first felt it, hunger.

For a moment, he was confused about it, but then he remembered Beelzebub's lectures about the body he was being issued. The strange sensation was almost pleasing. Perhaps it was his demonic nature to take pleasure in suffering and misfortune, or perhaps it was something else. Regardless, Crowley kept that hunger there, and there it has been. Over time, a lot of time, his corporation began to slowly show signs of neglect. The demon's physique had become thinner and thinner. Rather than worry him, this amused him, elated him. In the same way humans punished themselves for sin, Crowley used this as a way to feel some semblance of purity. Pain was a way to feel closer to the God he had been cast away from. With the birth of organized religion, Crowley began to empathize with the people who took part in it. They saw themselves as sinners, inherently evil, unworthy of God. Forever haunted by the trauma of the Fall, Crowley saw himself in this frame of thought, and opted to starve himself as much as he could. No, he didn't deserve food. He did not deserve to waste miracles putting his body at ease. The pain was soothing, purifying, and a constant companion even in his loneliest moments. 

"Ah you finally ordered the salad!" said the angel delightedly "it's absolutely fantastic. I'm sure you'll like it, dear" 

"I still don't really like the idea of eating plants, but you have made a compelling argument over the years" replied Crowley. 

As someone who was fond (if that word could even be applied) of plants, Crowley found it rather odd that people would _ eat _them. It didn't sit very well with him, but after centuries of listening to Aziraphale describe countless meals in detail, he decided that a salad would be ideal to break his centuries long fast. According to the angel, salads were light meals, and after having gone so long without consuming any food, a light dish seemed wise. 

"Now that it's here in front of me I don't know why I thought to order it" the demon sighed and regrettably took a small forkful of salad into his mouth. 

"So? How is it?" Aziraphale asked anxiously. It made him quite happy that the demon was finally joining him on a meal, as he was frequently being teased (mostly by other angels) about his affinity for food. 

"Not bad" mumbled Crowley in response "Not bad at all" 

That, of course, was a lie. He wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t tasted any food in such a long time, or because it really was as good as the angel had always said it was, but the words “not bad” were not accurate. It was delicious, and Crowley hated that. This brought up an inner tug of war over the salad, because he wanted more of it but at the same time he wanted absolutely none of it. As their dinner went on the demon found it a bit easier to ignore the meal by focusing on Aziraphale. The two had begun laughing over the disasters that had just been avoided and the reactions of everyone who had been fooled by them switching bodies to evade certain doom. Crowley loved watching the angel rejoice, his smile and laugh was an absolute sight to behold; _ his _angel. The atmosphere was light and loving, and for the first time ever, there was an unimaginable sensation of freedom. Then came dessert. 

No date with Aziraphale was complete without some kind of dessert. Of all human cuisine, the angel had developed a particular taste for sweets and pastries, crepes in particular, but this time it was a slice of cheesecake, lightly decorated with strawberry slices. 

“Oh you must try the cheesecake my dear boy!” said the angel 

“Mmmh no, I’d much rather not. I don’t like sweets. That’s your thing angel” replied Crowley.

More lies

“You’ve never even tried pastries!” Aziraphale protested in response 

“Yes I have!” snapped the demon 

For once, not a lie. Crowley had indeed tried sweets before, and he hated them above anything else. After helping Aziraphale get out of the bastille during the French Revolution, the two went for a round of crepes, but of course this meant Aziraphale had crepes and Crowley watched with a cup of coffee as usual. During that one date in particular, the angel had helped himself to no less than 5 of the delicate pastries, while he rambled on and on about how annoyed he was at having to head to England just to ride cross country for what he considered to be too simple miracles. During all this, Crowley had become very curious about these crepes. What was so damn good about them that the angel was willing to pop across the channel during a revolution to get some? The following day, once Aziraphale had gone off, Crowley re visited the crepe spot and got one for himself. That was, in his mind, one of the worst mistakes he had ever made. The crepes were absolutely delicious, and certainly worth the trouble. Crowley lost count of how many of the wretched things he had consumed, but it had been more than enough to have him feeling sick, but even worse, he felt like a failure. He had betrayed his promise of purity through starvation, and he now wished nothing more than to be rid of the vile sweets even though he had already ingested them. Then it occurred to him, the demon had seen over time as humans got sick, and some had found a way to self induce vomiting. Without a second thought, Crowley shoved two fingers into his mouth and down his throat, but nothing. Frustrated, he tried again, harder this time. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he had succeeded, but this was no sweet victory. Crowley spent that night purging out what he believed to be all remnants of the crepes, and then cursing every pastry known to man. He promised himself to never eat another delightful sweet ever again. 

Aziraphale’s voice interrupted the demon’s train of memories “Not in front of me you haven’t” 

Crowley was about to refuse the nibble until he saw the angel pouting. He couldn’t say no to a face like that, especially not after all that they had been through. 

“Oh alright! I’ll try the stupid cake” grumbled Crowley, slowly leaning in towards the fork containing the pastry that Aziraphale had so gently extended in his direction. 

Almost immediately, Crowley grimaced and shrunk back into his seat with a look of disgust on his face. That tiny morsel of cake was absolutely delicious. Fucking delicious. The long since forgotten taste of sugar graced his forked tongue, instantly bringing back the wretched phantom taste of bile. The slightly traumatizing memory coupled with the feeling of failure as he caved into temptation caused Crowley to muster up the self restraint needed for him to not ask for a slice of cake for himself. 

“Sorry angel” mumbled Crowley “I don’t think my demonic self can truly handle something as good as sweets” 

Aziraphale sighed and turned his attention back to the slice in front of him. Maybe Crowley was right, and his demonic being simply couldn’t enjoy something like that. Similarly, Aziraphale couldn’t find any enjoyment in bitter things such as black espressos or shots of whiskey, but the demon seemed to indulge in that fairly often. Maybe they were both structured to enjoy different things which corresponded to their side of the moral spectrum. Evil with bitterness, Holy with sweetness.

* * *

After dinner, the pair made their way back to the street in search of the Bentley parked up against the sidewalk. Usually, at this point, they would part ways and head on home or to their respective headquarters, but not this time. Now, they were free to do as they wished, and while they had longed for this for millennia, neither had stopped to think about what they would actually do with all this spare time. It wasn’t until they reached the parked car that they both realized that they had no idea what to do next. 

“Should I… uh… take you to the bookshop, angel?” asked Crowley out of habit

Aziraphale looked up at the evening sky for a moment and then he turned his gaze to Crowley “the night is still young! We can spend some more time together, don’t you think?”

Crowley smiled to himself. This was the first time he had seen the angel so carefree, and it was a lovely sight to behold. For a moment there he had completely forgotten about the guilt that now sat at the pit of his stomach. The stupid salad. Crowley wanted to rip it right out of himself.

“Actually” Aziraphale spoke up again “Going back to the bookshop would be a lovely idea, so long as we’re still together.” 

The two exchanged a blissful smile as the words hung in the air for just a moment. 

_ Together _

They had waited far too long to be able to say that, to do just that, to be together in peace. 

“Sure thing, angel” replied Crowley “I think some of your wine stash survived the reset of reality. We can cozy up with that.” 

“An excellent idea, dear!” said the angel, before slipping into the passenger seat.

Perhaps it was an adrenaline rush, or the carelessness knowing they had already avoided worse fates, or maybe even the single glass of champagne. Regardless, Crowley’s driving was more erratic than ever before, putting Aziraphale into panic mode. 

“Slow down!”

“You’re going to hit someone!”

“You just ran a red light!” 

“Crowley! WATCH THE ROAD!” 

As usual, the demon truly paid no mind to the comments. Simply responding with snappy remarks and continuing his chaotic driving as if no one had said a thing. When they approached the bookshop, Crowley made a sharp turn to skid the vehicle into an awkward parallel parking spot on the sidewalk, launching a very frightened Aziraphale to crash into his lap on the driver’s side. The angel placed a shaky hand onto Crowley’s thigh and propped himself up, his face red with fear and rage. 

_ “ _ ** _Don’t you ever do that again Crowley!” _ **yelled Aziraphale, unaware of where he had placed his hand, and how awfully close his face was to Crowley’s. 

The two stood there for a moment in complete stillness, and then Aziraphale came to his senses, quickly pulling his hand back and almost jumping right back into the passenger seat when he realized that he was tightly gripping the demon’s thigh. Crowley too had become quite flustered when he became aware of the warm spot the angel’s touch left behind on his thigh. 

“I won’t do it again” mumbled Crowley 

“Alright then” Aziraphale sighed and opened the car door. “Come along, dear boy”

Without another word, Crowley got out of the car and followed the angel into the familiar but not exactly the same bookshop that they had often held their secret rendezvous at. The atmosphere was a bit awkward at first, but that was soon fixed with a few sips of wine, that had indeed survived, much to Aziraphale’s delight. An old vinyl hummed in the background, playing some of Mozart’s symphonies, but the two were far too focused on each other to even notice the music as something other than mere background noise. Perhaps it was their repressed longing, or the slight unfamiliarity to the furniture in the room, but Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves sitting on the same loveseat together, facing each other, knees touching ever so slightly. By now they were both quite drunk, slurring their words and bursting into fits of giggles. They were on their second bottle of wine, and Crowley, having been the more sober of the two at the moment, was the one who got up to retrieve the bottle and thus pour the wine. Aziraphale had finished his glass, and drunkenly extended it out towards the demon, asking him to pour some more. A drunk Crowley decided this would be a lovely opportunity to tease the angel. 

“No” said Crowley with a mischievous grin

“Please?” begged Aziraphale, pouting his lower lip out 

Crowley laughed and simply responded “No” once more, this time holding the bottle out of the angel’s reach. 

Fed up, Aziraphale launched himself forward, reaching out for the bottle and landing on top of Crowley in the process, only his hand against the cushions stopping their bodies from entirely colliding with one another.

The bottle slipped out of Crowley’s hand, but at this point neither of them cared for it, as they were now lost in each other’s gaze. With their present state of mind, neither one could tell who leaned in first. All they knew was that in the blink of an eye their lips were suddenly pressed against each other’s; a kiss. To Crowley, the feeling of the angel’s soft perfect lips pressed lightly on his own was better than he had ever expected it to be. Aziraphale’s lips felt as soft as a cloud, as gentle as a butterfly landing on a flower, and behind the taste of the wine was a hint of angelic sweetness. This was pure glory, holy glory. To Aziraphale, Crowley’s lips felt as smooth as his serpentine skin, delightful as any sweet indulgence, and warm like a cozy fireplace in the winter. Forbidden love, delightful sin, now entirely his. 

The two held the kiss for what felt like an eternity and merely a second at a time. They pulled back their faces for just a moment before leaning in again to indulge in another kiss. Crowley’s hand soon worked its way past the angel’s cheek and onto his head, nestling his fingers between the soft pale blonde curls of angel hair as their lips embraced. Aziraphale began to do the same, slowly releasing his hand from being pushed against the cushion of the loveseat, and sliding onto Crowley’s fiery hair. For a moment, just a moment, everything was bliss. Until Aziraphale felt his torso pressing onto Crowley’s body, his weight coming down onto the slender demon. Aziraphale then quickly pushed himself away, and back into a seated position, his face flushed red in embarrassment. Confused, Crowley slowly sat up as well and faced the bashful angel, guilt starting to overtake him. 

“...too fast?” asked Crowley, his voice soft and defeated 

“I.. I need to sober up” said Aziraphale, indirectly responding to the other’s question. 

And so the angel did just that, sending the wine out of himself, Crowley following suit. Soon the two were left sitting there with the aftertaste of wine and the awkward bitterness of what had just happened. Now sober, Crowley began to mentally beat himself up for what he did. How could he be so stupid? Lusting after an angel? Of course, he was a demon after all, he could only lust after beauty and not truly appreciate it. Far worse still was forcing the angel into an uncomfortable position, for it was Crowley who leaned in for the second kiss, it was Crowley who took the liberty of letting his hands wander. Maybe the first kiss had been an accident. Maybe Aziraphale just wasn’t ready to take it any further. How could he force a being of purity into such a lustful situation? With guilt now overwhelming him, Crowley stood up and promptly headed for the door. 

“I’m sorry, angel” he said, and with that Crowley left the bookshop, boarded his beloved Bentley, and drove off to his flat.


	2. To Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale each turn to their own bad habits to deal with the distress left over from the night before. Aziraphale battles with an unpleasant To-Go box, Crowley struggles with silk pyjamas. Eventually the two reach to a surprising solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the positive reactions to the first chapter! As previously stated, trigger warnings apply. Do not read if you know you are sensitive to eating disorder discussion and food related topics. Stay safe, and take care. Heavy warning for detailed food descriptions & binging. As promised, Anathema, Newt, & the them will eventually come along but_ patience. _ We're almost there. In the meantime, enjoy a special guest appearance made by the poor terrified houseplants.

Aziraphale quietly sat there, listening to Crowley’s footsteps on the pavement, and then the sound of the Bentley riding off into the night until there was nothing but the clicking of the record player, as it had long since run its course and needed to be reset. Aziraphale slumped down further into his seat, analyzing the mess that the two had made in their playful struggle for the wine, and then looking down at his hands that were peacefully clasped together atop his belly. Gabriel’s words from a week ago now echoed in his mind. 

_ “Lose the gut” _

Aziraphale hadn’t ever paid much mind to his physical appearance. Sure, he had standards for how he dressed and presented himself, but hadn’t thought any further than that. Not until Gabriel had pointed out the angel’s soft round belly. The body he had been issued only mimicked that of the human form, it would take centuries of indulgence for any excess weight to begin to show on his form, but that’s exactly what had happened. Nearly 6,000 years spent on Earth and Aziraphale had enjoyed food during nearly all of that time. Much like Crowley, in the first few years on Earth, he had also been apprehensive about eating anything. Until the smell hit him. Aziraphale quickly gave into temptation and had been charmed ever since, tasting anything that caught his attention as the eras went on. Due to the sharp changes in clothing as the years went on, and the various cultures he visited on assignments, Aziraphale had never held onto any items of clothing for very long, thus never noticing a change in his figure as every new fashion fit differently. It wasn’t until the Edwardian period that he was able to hold onto a few items, a waistcoat, some shoes, and bowties. Later on, he held onto some pieces that he picked up in the late 1940s, a coat, some button up collar shirts, trousers, and some more waistcoats. Past that, fashion had diversified enough that even if these items were deemed out of style, no one found it so far out of place that it would bring suspicion upon the angel’s true form. Over the years he kept these items in good condition, taking them to tailors should the fabric snag on the edge of a table, or lose a button, or start to fit a bit too snugly. Aziraphale had simply thought that over time, over many many many washes, the clothing had begun to shrink a little. The thought had never occurred to him that perhaps the clothes were not shrinking at all, but rather that he was getting larger. It wasn’t until Gabriel pointed it out. 

Then it got worse. 

Wrapped up in the worry of preventing the apocalypse, Aziraphale had put that unpleasant thought at the back of his mind. He had all but forgotten it until he and Crowley made the switch. It was then that the thought came back to the forefront, this time with more force than before. Crowley’s body felt so _ light _when he entered it. The demon’s assigned body had actually suffered the opposite damage to what Aziraphale had. It was even lighter and thinner than in the beginning, but Aziraphale hardly noticed that it was in a worrisome state, as he was too focused on the guilt over his own body, not to mention trying to play a convincing role that would literally be the difference between existence and ceasing to exist. Once again, those thoughts were shoved into the back of his mind as Aziraphale focused on trying to pretend to be Crowley and getting the trial over with. When the danger had been averted, they switched back into their respective bodies, the guilt and self consciousness returned along with the angel’s assigned form. While he knew it wasn’t possible that his body had changed overnight, it sure felt like it. He almost felt heavier, and was now even more aware of his softness than before. 

Aziraphale shoved these thoughts to the back once more, this time with a bit more effort, as he wished to enjoy his newfound freedom with Crowley. The two had waited far too long to be together this way, and Aziraphale wasn’t about to let this newly found self consciousness ruin what they had fought so hard for. 

Or so he thought. 

The day had gone on with success, not a negative thought in sight. That was, until Aziraphale drunkenly threw himself on top of Crowley. At first, bliss. Pure angelic soft bliss as they embraced in a way that they had never done so before. Then, as Aziraphale felt his body press against the demon’s slender form, all the self conscious thoughts came rushing to the forefront with an incredible force. Suddenly he was aware of his rounded gut against the other’s bony frame, and he nearly felt as if the frail looking demon would break beneath him. It was then that the angel quickly pushed away, ruining the moment they had both so desired. As Aziraphale sat alone on the loveseat, looking at the mess, he began to panic. What would he do if they got caught up in a situation like that again? What if next time they went further? He couldn’t push Crowley away forever. He didn’t _ want _to push Crowley away at all, but he feared the other would be repulsed by what had become of his form over millennia of indulgence. He knew Gabriel was right, he had to lose the weight somehow. Aziraphale sighed in defeat and got up off the loveseat to begin cleaning up the mess, hoping it would ease his anxieties a little bit. 

On the opposite end of town, Crowley was making a dramatic entrance into his own home, flinging the door open in a fit of rage and self loathing. 

“** _WHAT ARE YOU ALL LOOKING AT? KEEP GROWING!” _ **

He roared at the innocent houseplants, stomping past them and storming his way into the bedroom. Once there, Crowley undressed himself in a rush, roughly pulling off the layers of clothing before pulling out a pair of black silk pyjamas from a bedside drawer. 

“Stupid filthy demon” he said to himself 

Before slipping into the pyjamas Crowley took a deep breath to release a bit of tension before starting the only ritual that seemed to calm him down; counting his ribs. He trailed one finger down his side, slowly feeling the small hills and valleys caused by his ribcage against his skin. It brought the demon a morbid sense of comfort as he felt the effects that centuries of starvation had on his corporeal form. Long ago Crowley had convinced himself that this was redemption. If he could be rid of as much of this demonic body as possible, then it would somehow bring him closer to the God he was cast away from, and the purity he once felt. Both heaven and humanity had demonized him for simply asking questions, though he had not done anything particularly wrong. Everywhere Crowley went, people feared him, hated him, angels tried to fight him. Crowley had been antagonized against his will, made into something that could only be treated with aggression. In his mind, if he could become small, frail, delicate, then maybe others would stop fearing him or trying to fight him. Perhaps if he was frail enough he would be worthy of being treated gently. Maybe, just maybe, if he made himself small and harmless enough, he would be worthy of Aziraphale’s pure angelic love and care. 

Now more relaxed, Crowley miracled the black silk pyjamas onto his body and he lay down onto the bed. The pyjamas were something he had held onto since the late 60s, and were meant to be quite baggy and appear oversized. However, by now Crowley was somewhat drowning in them, his body even thinner than when the pyjamas were first put on. His stomach soon turned into knots as he thought about what had just happened at the bookshop. All he wanted to do was protect the angel, care for him, and love him, but Crowley just didn’t know how to. Demons can’t just _ love _like that, it’s not in their nature. This was the only comforting thought Crowley had, that he simply couldn’t help himself in being too fast and vulgar, it was what he was compelled to do, and he would have to learn to overcome it. However, before he could do that, Crowley needed a long nap. Well, he didn’t particularly need it, but in the same way Aziraphale had grown fond of the human habit of eating, Crowley became fond of the habit of sleeping. It was the only thing that comforted him, as in hell there was no such thing as soft cushy beds and the freedom to do nothing for a while. It was the closest thing to heaven that he had, besides Aziraphale. Slowly, the demon’s eyelids grew heavy, covering the bright amber irises and sending him off into a peaceful post apocalyptic rest. 

* * *

For the next 3 days Aziraphale tried to phone Crowley, but each time was met with the same message from the answering machine. With each passing day the angel grew more and more anxious. What if he had truly upset the demon? What if Crowley didn’t want to see him again? Was he that angry? Or was it sadness and shame? In situations of high stress Aziraphale had made it a habit to nibble out his anxieties with a delicious lunch or some pastries, but this time around the guilt made him stop before he could head out of the bookshop in search of something to eat. Right, he was supposed to be losing weight, not continuing to gain it. With a sigh of defeat, the angel turned back towards his desk in search of something else to take his mind off things. Aziraphale sat down to re read Nostradamus’ prophecies, a book that reminded him of all the good times the two had spent together in the past, oh how he mourned the loss of his human friends. This distraction seemed to work for only about an hour before the clock bells rang; 15:00. 

Almost instantly, the worry and distress over Crowley came rushing back, ringing through his mind and chest like the echo of the bells. Aziraphale quickly stood up and tried to phone Crowley again. Once more, there was no answer but that of the pre recorded answering machine. This was day one, and Aziraphale was already beyond frustrated. He tried to return to his book, but to no avail. The worry continued to eat at the back of his mind giving him a dull headache. Perhaps a walk would ease his distress. Aziraphale jumped out of the chair and quickly went to fetch his coat and walking shoes, and he headed straight for the park. Yes, a walk seemed just the perfect idea. He was getting in a bit of exercise all while enjoying the mild weather and pleasant sights that mother nature had to offer. Everything was going well until a familiar sweet smell hit him. Just across the street was a cafe serving freshly made crepes and coffee. Without a moment's hesitation, Aziraphale found himself walking towards the source of that sweet comforting scent, but he stopped himself halfway. No, he didn’t need the crepes, and he certainly would not get one. The temptation was overwhelming, so the angel opted to head right on back to the bookshop for the evening. 

Day two went by very similarly. Once again, Aziraphale tried almost every hour to phone Crowley just to hear the same pre recorded message from the answering machine. This rose his anxiety levels even further, which made him crave all sorts of sweet and savoury treats, which in turn only made him more anxious and distressed. It was a cruel cycle of anxiety, snowballing into an even bigger cycle of distress. At roughly half past 6pm, Aziraphale was sending out the last “customer” from his bookshop, opening the door for the man as he left the establishment. With this, a light breeze carried over the scent of freshly made fettuccine alfredo, and he broke. Shortly after setting up the “Closed” sign on the door Aziraphale went out and followed the scent to an italian restaurant that was just around the corner. Stressed, upset, and frankly desperate for some comfort, the angel didn’t think twice about letting himself into the restaurant and promptly sitting down to order a 3 course dinner and wine. First came the garden salad, dressed with a light vinaigrette, some cheese, and paired with a light and refreshing white wine. For the main course, linguine pasta with shrimp and scallops in a white sauce. Lastly, dessert was a delicate slice of tiramisu. The first bite of the pastry was absolutely divine after nearly 2 days of avoiding food altogether, and high levels of stress. However, halfway through, the guilt settled in once more. Aziraphale stared at the half eaten pastry, disappointed in himself, but his mind repeated to him 

“_ Well, you already broke your promise. Might as well do whatever you want now _” 

That same thought coupled with remaining anxiety over Crowley pushed him to finish the dessert without regrets. It was the only thing calming him down. Aziraphale got up and paid for the meal, as he was leaving his mind was filled with depressing questions regarding the demon when yet another scent caught his attention. Just down the street on the other side was a small bustling cafe that smelled of scones, muffins, and coffee. The angel walked right in, following his nose until he was met with the glass display filled with pastries and slices of cakes and pies. He eagerly ordered a box to go, filling it with as many delicate pastries as caught his eye, and he was on his way back to the bookshop humming happily to himself. Back inside, Aziraphale set some water to boil for a cup of hot coffee to accompany his assortment of sweets. In the meantime, he phoned Crowley again, but still got no answer. A new load of anxiety hit him like a brick, and the angel sat down at his desk to try and relieve that feeling with a book and some sweets. He began to read up a relationship advice book from 1887, in the hopes that it would inspire some sort of solution to his problem, all while mindlessly taking forkfuls of apple pie and sips of warm coffee. The night carried on and by now Aziraphale was practically running on autopilot, not really aware of what he was doing with his hands as he absorbed himself in the book on the desk. A dull pain in his stomach suddenly pulled him out of his literature trance and it was only then that he realized just how much he had mindlessly consumed while he read on. Aziraphale turned away in shame from the near empty pastry box on the edge of the desk. All that remained was one blueberry muffin and an assortment of crumbs. He felt overwhelmingly sick from the sudden binge, and buried his face into his hands out of pure shame and guilt. 

By the late afternoon of the 3rd day, something finally occurred to Aziraphale. Prior to this, he hadn't thought to do exactly as the pre recorded voice of Crowley said to do. Once the phone stopped ringing and the same repetitive message played out Aziraphale finally decided to leave a message in hopes that it would somehow get the demon’s attention. 

“Crowley? Where are you dear boy? I’ve been calling for days and I’m terribly worried! Can… can we please just talk it out? I’m sorry!” 

At the other end of the line, Crowley was blissfully still asleep until the sound of Aziraphale’s distress on the answering machine awoke him in an instant. Crowley leaped out of bed and rushed to the phone without really registering what the angel was saying. All he knew was that Aziraphale was terribly upset, and he wouldn’t stand for it. Crowley dialed back, and on the first ring Aziraphale quickly picked up. 

“What’s wrong, angel?” asked Crowley 

“Oh thank heavens you’re alright!” Aziraphale was beyond relieved “Where have you been?” 

“I.. uh.. I was sleeping…” Crowley hadn’t yet realized for how long he had been out

“_ Asleep?” _ yelled the angel, his voice nearly angry “ _ for THREE days?” _

Granted, Crowley had slept through an entire century before, but ever since then the demon chose to sleep only a handful of hours every week or so. 

“Yesss…” hissed the demon “I’m so sorry, angel. Didn’t mean to worry you. I’m alright. Should I come over?” 

Aziraphale hesitated a moment, and suddenly he remembered a small line in last night’s book that suggested the gentleman ought to take charge and be proactive, visiting the lady whom he was courting. While neither was a gentleman nor lady, Aziraphale took it upon himself to go visit Crowley instead, as he was the one who had read the book and thus should take the advice. Besides, staying in the same room where the incident occurred was not the best idea, and Aziraphale had only visited Crowley’s flat once before but just from the outside, he never went in. 

“No no, it’s quite alright, dear boy. I will make my way over to you in two shakes of a rabbit’s tail. Goodbye!” and with that Aziraphale hung up and got ready to leave the bookshop. 

Meanwhile Crowley was left standing near the phone a bit groggy and dumbfounded by yet another of Aziraphale’s odd expressions. With a shrug, the demon went off to get dressed for the visit and to yell at the houseplants to be on their best display because a special guest was coming over. About an hour later there was a ring at the door, and Crowley instantly sprung up from his desk chair to rush over and answer it. The door opened to reveal an anxiety ridden angel dressed in his usual tartan style. 

“I-I’m so sorry for taking so long dear boy. Traffic was bad.” said Aziraphale 

“Are you alright?” Crowley asked, leaning in a bit to closely look at the angel. He was definitely off. “Come on in” he said, motioning with his hand for Aziraphale to follow. 

The two walked into the dimly lit halls of the aesthetic flat with the door slamming shut behind them. It wasn’t exactly inviting and cozy, but it certainly had style. The minimalist decor had been carefully selected by Crowley, each decorative item holding some kind of emotional significance, but also blending in seamlessly with the sharp and intimidating style of the place. As they walked around Aziraphale let his gaze wander the walls, quickly picking up on most of the reasoning behind the artwork and sculptures in the space. It then occurred to him that he hadn’t ever seen Crowley be this open and vulnerable. This was Crowley’s space, no one else ever went inside, it was his sanctuary where he could be himself without repercussions and this was the first time the angel was seeing it. 

“Oh they’re lovely!” exclaimed Aziraphale as they walked by the plants. “I didn’t know you had an interest in gardening, Crowley. That’s quite sweet of you.” 

“Uh.. sure. If you say so.” mumbled Crowley in return “It’s just a hobby I picked up during the whole new age boom of the 70s.” 

Suddenly, the plants seemed to change. It was not a visible change in growth or verdace, but rather a subtle yet obvious change in composture. This was the first time the plants had been exposed to an angelic presence, but more importantly, this was the first time the plants felt love in the atmosphere. The mere presence of these two instantly turned the air around them into that which was heavy with pure love and romance, no matter what they were currently doing. The pair pretended not to notice the change, and continued to walk down the hall and into the open kitchen and dining area. 

Dining area? 

“Why do you have a dining room if you don’t even eat?” asked Aziraphale 

“It just came with the place and I couldn’t be bothered to change it” shrugged Crowley “besides, it’s at least a nice place to sit with a cup of coffee or whiskey, and now it’s proving useful for guests.” 

The two exchanged a shy smile. Aziraphale was the first guest Crowley had brought into his flat. Ligur and Hastur didn’t count. They were intruders. Aside from that, no one had seen how the infamous Anthony J Crowley lived. Crowley pulled out a chair for the angel, and then sat across the small dining table so he could look at him. Neither was sure of what to say or how to say it. They knew there had been an issue but how would they even address that? Centuries over centuries of stifling their emotions now made it excruciatingly difficult to quite literally lay them out on the table. After a long pause, they both broke the silence, blurting out the same words at once. 

“I’m sorry!” 

They stared at each other for a moment, embarrassed. Then Crowley gestured to the angel. 

“No no, you first” said the demon

Aziraphale nodded in agreement and then took a deep breath to ready himself and gather his thoughts. 

“I’m… sorry” began Aziraphale, his voice soft and slow “for my behavior the other day. I didn’t.. I didn’t mean to upset you or force you to run off. Crowley I… I want to spend time with you. I just don’t know how” his voice nearly cracked at the end. 

“Yeah, I understand” responded Crowley, his tone of voice matching the other’s “I’m not sure how to do so either. I never thought we would get this chance to freely be together. I’ve always longed for it, but now that it’s here I just don’t know what to do.” 

Aziraphale sat there quietly taking in Crowley’s words; processing. He truly wanted to spend all of his time with the demon. He wanted nothing more than for them to always be together, to be whole, but how? What does that even mean, to be together? He had spent centuries watching human couples live out their lives in romantic bliss, and he fantasized about having a similar opportunity with Crowley. Oh if only they could have been human! Alas, they were not. So what would they do? After years of living within London, Aziraphale had grown quite tired of the traffic, the noise, and the distance between him and Crowley which was made only longer by inconvenient and frequent traffic jams. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him, but he decided to hold off on it for a minute. 

“So, you aren’t upset with me anymore?” asked Aziraphale 

Crowley leaned forward, wanting to reach a hand out but opting not to. “No, of course not. I was worried you were upset with me for putting you in such an uncomfortable situation, angel.” 

Aziraphale’s cheeks were quickly flushed pink at the memory “It’s alright… you didn’t force me. It simply happened.” 

Crowley nodded “yeah, I guess it did. Either way, I’m sorry. I won’t pressure you into doing anything you don’t like. From now on, if you’re uncomfortable or… or if I’m going too fast for you…” Crowley’s voice trailed off as the memories came to the forefront. For immortal beings, decades was a relatively short amount of time, and the 1960s was still recent to both of them, as was the memory of that night in the Bentley. “If I go too fast for you…” continued Crowley after a brief pause for melancholy “just let me know. I promise to listen this time.” 

“Okay” Aziraphale replied with a warm smile “thank you. I’m still uh.. A bit uncomfortable with touch, but… that should change in due time.” 

Now that they had cleared the air, both felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from their shoulders. A new boundary had been established, and this gave the relationship a bit of much needed framework in order to move forward and evolve into something that satisfied them both. For a few minutes, the pair sat in silence, simply admiring each other’s face and appearance with a mutual understanding in the quiet. Neither found it weird or uncomfortable. Somehow they just knew what the other was doing, and they welcomed the gentle admiration. After a short while Aziraphale’s voice broke the silence. 

“I had been thinking…” his voice was slightly shaky but he tried to compose himself to sound cool and casual “After roughly 20 years in the same bookshop and even longer in London, I’ve grown quite bored and frustrated with the modern city.” he managed to keep that casual tone up until now, the nervousness welling up within him, but the angel was determined to deliver his message properly.

“Yeah it’s all a bit chaotic I suppose” said Crowley 

“Yes yes, quite” replied Aziraphale, taking a short breath to gather up the courage to finish his proposal. “I was uh… thinking that perhaps it’s time I relocate. I was considering Tadfield. Sure, all manner of unpleasant things occurred there in the past few weeks” he laughed nervously “but um, well… It’s a lovely village, and the danger has been averted.” 

“Tadfield?” Crowley felt his stomach go up in knots at the thought of Aziraphale being further away from him now, but he would put up with whatever made his angel happy. “It was quite lovely if you’re looking for that sort of tranquility. That place might suit you.” 

“Won’t you come with me, dear boy?” asked Aziraphale 

There was another pause. Silence filled the room once more as the two processed the words that had just been spoken. 

“You’re asking me… to move in with you?” Crowley couldn’t believe his ears 

Moving in _ together _was not what Aziraphale had in mind. He had thought they would move into the town, each in their own cottage near each other. Moving in together, under the same roof, was far too fast for his liking, but the thought of it excited the angel. 

“I- uh well u-um… I-if you’d like.. to?” replied Aziraphale, flustered, but opting to go along with it regardless. “You don’t have to. I mean I-” 

Crowley quickly cut him off “I would love to” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is called "sushi!" because emotions are raw, unpleasant looking, hard to swallow, but once you get through with it, it will leave you satisfied and happy (sushi is very delicious, fuck you). Oh and of course because you know  
Gabriel: Why are you consuming that?  
Azi:_ it's sushi _ :(
> 
> ALSO if it tickles your fancy, I have a pre-canon fic about Crowley taking his fall right here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20372062/chapters/48312439
> 
> please 
> 
> please read it
> 
> its 10 chapters of artsy nonsense that i worked very hard on.


	3. Move Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale move into Tadfield and are greeted by The Them, and Dog the former hell hound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Them finally make an appearance! This is now the 3rd chapter of solid script. Proving once and for all that archive user tsuduku is indeed capable of writing non comedic nonsense. 
> 
> As always, eating disorder triggers apply. Please stay safe. These cursed disorders truly wreak havoc on your body. I'm luckily in my final stages of recovery but have been left with heart problems as a consequence of the damage done. If you know this will trigger you, please read something else. Your body is valuable and should be taken care of. Project your negative feelings onto fictional characters if you must. Anything that will get you to not engage in disordered behaviors and thus keep you safe.

The following day the pair set off for Tadfield, and for once, Crowley was not driving as if he was being chased by the law, but perhaps it helped that he was not driving the Bentley. They were heading into the village on a large moving truck that carried Aziraphale’s vast book collection. The traffic of the M25 seemed nearly pleasant, as it gave the two time to chat excitedly about their new home, together. 

“We’ll set up a room just for your books, angel.” said Crowley “From now on, no more pesky customers dirtying up your precious books or trying to take them from you.” 

“Ah that does sound lovely indeed!” replied Aziraphale with glee. 

It was a strange irony, they sat in a line of bumper to bumper traffic surrounded by loud honking and the occasional rude remark yelled out from a driver side window. Yet in the midst of this chaos, the two were practically glowing with joy. Not a thing could get in the way of their happiness, not even the M25. Time wasn’t long enough for them to enjoy talking about their new future together, but soon came something even better, actually building it. They miracled a lovely cottage for themselves, and as promised, it included a bit of a chalet like structure to the side which would house the bulk of Aziraphale’s literary collection, with the rest of the books to be scattered throughout the cottage, and of course, a lovely little garage for the Bentley. The two made sure that no one else was watching before they miracled the books from the moving truck into the little chalet, and the remaining books into neat piles in what would be the living room. With most of the heavy lifting now out of the way via miracles, the two spent the morning arranging their new home together, setting little decorations on the walls, adding their favorite belongings, and moving in the houseplants into their new corners (yes, Crowley brought his frightened houseplants along too). The lawn at the front had boxes scattered around the yard, some empty, some still full, and the back housed what would be their new garden. During his undercover days as the gardener Brother Francis, made to watch over the incorrect antichrist Warlock, Aziraphale had picked up quite an appreciation for gardening and insisted upon having his own little Eden. Crowley was just as thrilled to have even more space for plants, although Aziraphale had yet to find out what exactly Crowley did to the plants. 

As the day went on Aziraphale would become easily distracted by Crowley, who was now wearing just a black tank top and black skinny jeans with tears in them. It was a lovely sight to behold, and the angel was getting lost in the admiration of Crowley’s slim arms carrying boxes around. To Aziraphale, everything about Crowley was just perfect, and he now found himself both lusting after the demon and envying his slender body. Similarly, Crowley was stealing glances of Aziraphale, with his white sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top button of the chemise undone, no bowtie in sight. This was about as exposed as the angel would allow himself to be since the days of togas and robes with slits along the side of the legs and no such thing as long sleeves to cover the arms. 

It was about an hour past noon when the two suddenly heard a group of familiar voices approaching the cottage. Soon, the group of children calling themselves The Them, appeared riding their bicycles on the road right next to the cottage, followed by a small dog. Adam Young, the leader of The Them and former antichrist, was the one to recognize the pair standing on the lawn of the cottage surrounded by boxes, and he decided to call out for their attention.

“Aren’t you two the bad angel and the good demon?” asked Adam, bringing his bicycle to a halt near the fence of the cottage’s lawn with The Them following close behind. 

Crowley looked a bit startled and unwilling to interact, but Aziraphale cheerily responded to the boy. 

“Why yes! That would be us. It’s good to see you dear boy” replied the angel with a smile and a wave. 

“I thought they were witches” yelled Brian from the back of the cycling pack. 

“That’s stupid!” snapped Pepper in retaliation “They can’t possibly be witches! Witches are evil and they helped us, which makes them not evil and therefore not witches.” 

“But they can do magic!” replied Wensleydale “Maybe they’re good witches” 

While the remaining 3 continued to argue amongst themselves, Adam got off his bike and leaned onto the side of the fence with Dog sitting by his feet. 

“Have you moved into Tadfield to watch over me now?” Adam asked Aziraphale. 

There was a small pause.

“Well.. not quite” responded the angel “we have indeed moved into Tadfield, so you will likely be seeing us from time to time, but not to worry dear boy we are not here to cause any trouble. You can run along to play with your friends free from any more apocalyptic responsibilities.” 

“Oh, okay.” said Adam, walking back to his bicycle “we were just going to get ice cream. You can come with us if you’d like.” 

Aziraphale’s face instantly lit up in excitement. While their bodies did not tire as did human bodies, the day was quite warm and they had already spent an awful lot of time moving in. A bit of ice cream sounded just delightful right about now. 

“Oh? There’s an ice cream parlor nearby?” asked the angel 

At this, the rest of The Them suddenly came out of their witchy bickering and joined in to eagerly discuss their favorite flavors. 

“Yes! And they have the best chocolate ice cream in the whole world!” said Brian

“No, the strawberry ice cream is the best!” Wensleydale protested

“Don’t listen to them.” Pepper said, turning her direction to Aziraphale “The vanilla ice cream is the best of all. Everyone knows that vanilla is always the best flavor.” 

Meanwhile, Crowley was all ears, listening to the ice cream battles and trying to think of an excuse to get him out of this sweet break. The last thing he wanted was to be forced into a situation where he would have to eat again, let alone eat something  _ sweet.  _ No, not after having broken his fast at The Ritz. He absolutely could not afford to eat something again. 

“That all sounds lovely! We will happily come along.” said Aziraphale, turning to Crowley who was lost in his own thoughts trying to devise an escape plan. “Right Crowley? We would love to join the kids for ice cream, wouldn’t we dear boy?” 

Finally, Crowley snapped out of the mission impossible thoughts. “Huh? What? Oh? Oh… no. No no no. We certainly won’t be having ice cream.” he said in a sarcastic tone “Demons don’t eat ice cream. That’s ridiculous.” 

It was almost as if everyone had heard Crowley’s escapist thoughts because at that moment all of The Them and Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley with a pouty expression, begging him to say yes. Even the dog was making pleading puppy eyes at him! 

“Please?” they all whined in unison 

While he meant them no harm, Crowley couldn’t possibly care less about the children or the ex hellhound. It was Aziraphale’s begging look that broke him. He couldn’t bare to deny his angel a simple pleasure, especially not his favorite thing of all, sweets. 

“Ugh alright!” exclaimed Crowley, throwing his hands up in defeat “We can go get ice cream. Let me just close up the front door and we’ll be on our way.”

The Them, Aziraphale, and Dog all burst into a celebratory cheer which was only cut short by Crowley shouting back at them 

“On one condition!” the demon raised a finger “I’m not getting any ice cream and there shall be no begging for it. Demon’s don’t eat sweets.” he scoffed “ridiculous” 

Everyone unfortunately agreed, and Aziraphale pulled out a bowtie from his pocket to adjust over the collar of his shirt. He had to be at least a tiny bit more presentable if they were going to run into other people. They waited for Crowley to close up the cottage doors and soon they were off, walking past the lovely little homes, lush green bushes and trees, and the occasional squirrel as they made their way to the ice cream parlour. The Them cycled ahead of Aziraphale and Crowley, leaving the couple to walk alone together. Everything was so perfect at this moment that Crowley had all but forgotten about the dreaded sugar that awaited them. The way the afternoon summer sunlight hit the angel’s soft blonde curls and made them shimmer against the crisp blue sky. Aziraphale’s smile nearly glowed as bright as the sun itself as he eagerly looked forward to a refreshing sweet treat, and the soft pink of his cheeks that could rival even the most perfect of roses. Within about 10 minutes, the group reached the small ice cream parlour surrounded by verdant bushes and pale blue picnic benches. 

The Them were already digging into their treats, as they had arrived first on their noisy little bicycles. They all lit up happily as the two finally came into view at the ice cream parlour, and in the blink of an eye all four children surrounded Aziraphale, asking him which flavour he would choose. The light feeling of the entire day had lead Aziraphale to completely forget about any guilt he held in regards to indulgence and the current state of his body. The angel was far too delighted by the overwhelming joy of his new lifestyle in the quaint village whom he could now share with the charming demon he spent most of his existence yearning after. After a minute of debate, Aziraphale finally settled on strawberries and cream flavour in a waffle cup, and he then happily joined The Them at the picnic bench with his treat in hand, an annoyed Crowley in tow.

“So are you really an angel?” asked Brian, chocolate streaks running down his lips and chin. 

“Yes, I am” replied Aziraphale before taking a spoonful of ice cream. It was just as delightful as the children had said it was. “But you can’t tell anyone that I am! Or else we will all be in big trouble.” 

The Them all nodded in agreement. Granted, they hadn’t told anyone else about how they saved the world together from Armageddon, but it did no harm to remind them that they could not speak of this supernatural business to anyone who wasn’t involved. 

“Do you have wings?” another chocolate tainted question from Brian 

“That’s impossible!” this time it was Wensleydale who protested

“He’s right” said Pepper in agreement “He can’t possibly have wings. Don’t be silly Brian.” 

“Yes he does!” yelled Adam “They both have wings. I saw them myself!” 

Aziraphale and Crowley were both quite amused by the children’s questions and innocent bickering, with Crowley stealing the occasional glance at an oblivious Aziraphale as he hummed happily to himself with little spoonfuls of strawberries and cream ice cream. Neither angel nor demon had the chance to answer the children’s questions when they were already onto even  _ more _ questions. 

“Can you show us your wings?” asked Wensleydale 

“What if people see them?” Pepper asked the others “He said we couldn’t tell anyone else about this!” 

Finally Aziraphale spoke “Yes she’s right. We musn’t let anyone else know.” 

Suddenly, Adam had an idea. “what if we go over to your house? Can you show us then?” 

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other, as if to silently gain approval. Aziraphale raised his brows, his expression practically screaming out “ _ Well, they could. Couldn’t they?”  _ and Crowley staring back from behind his usual dark Valentino sunglasses, with an expression that could only mean “ _ Why are you asking me when you will do it even without my approval anyway?”  _

With a sigh of defeat, Crowley turned to face The Them. “Alright, you kids can come over for a little while after ice cream and we’ll show you, but you have to help us take things out of boxes.” 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale said in a scolding tone, he looked mortified at the idea that Crowley would put the children to work, but in contrast The Them cheered excitedly at this deal. 

“Oh relax, angel” said Crowley, rolling his amber snake eyes even though no one else could see the gesture. “It’s not like we’re working them like slaves. They’re just gonna get curious about what’s in the boxes and pull it all out, as curious children do.” 

“Fine” huffed Aziraphale after seeing The Them’s reaction. He hated being wrong. 

The group finished up their treats, leaving Aziraphale to nibble on the waffle cup as they made their way back to the cottage. Crowley lead the way into the cottage, and soon the children spread out, marveling at all the oddities the pair had put into their home. For a second it seemed as if The Them had forgotten all about the wings, giving Crowley and Aziraphale a sense of relief, but that feeling only lasted a few minutes. Soon enough, Brian was there loudly reminding everyone of the reason they had come into the cottage in the first place. 

“Can you show us your wings now?” asked Brian, still covered in streaks of chocolate ice cream.

“Yeah! Show us!” cheered the rest. 

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other and sighed before slowly unfolding their wings for the children to see. They were met with a loud wave of “oohs” and “aahs” and the children reached out to touch the black and white feathered wings. 

“Huh, it actually feels quite nice to stretch them out a bit” said Aziraphale “Oh! Do be careful with the wings please dear children.” 

“Yeah it’s been a while since they were out” replied Crowley “Hey hey hey! He said watch it!” 

After a brief moment of admiration, Crowley cut it short. “Alright, you’ve all seen them. Now time to keep up your end of the bargain and help us take things out of boxes. Oh, and don’t forget that you can’t tell anyone you saw these!” 

And with that, the two tucked away their wings and set their sights on the slight mess that surrounded them. The Them quickly scattered around the room, running towards the items that caught their attention the most. After a few minutes, Brian and Wensleydale were helping Aziraphale shelf some books in the living room while Adam, Pepper, and Dog followed Crowley as he placed plants in various rooms. In truth it was Aziraphale who was doing the shelving. Brian and Wensleydale were just pulling books out of boxes, occasionally flipping through the ones that caught their eye, and asking all manner of childish questions. 

“So do all angels have wings?” 

“Yes” 

“Is Crowley really a demon?” 

“Yes” 

“Do all demons get wings too? I thought they were all evil.” 

“Yes, and no” 

“Are all angel wings white?” 

“Of course” 

“Are you a cherub?” 

This question in particular irked Aziraphale quite a bit, but he tried to not sound too harsh in his response. They were only children after all, and had no such knowledge about the heavenly hierarchy. “No! I’m absolutely not a cherub!” snapped the angel “I’m a Principality and former guardian of the eastern gate of Eden.” 

“If you’re not a cherub, then why are you so chubby? Are all angels soft and chubby?” 

There it was. The topic that Aziraphale had tried to completely forget and ignore. The guilt came rushing back tenfold, now that he knew other people held the same opinion of his physical being as Gabriel did. Before this, Aziraphale could at least put in the benefit of the doubt that it was only Gabriel’s hyper vigilance and attention to detail that had noticed a slight change in his appearance, but now the children had taken notice of his size as well, which meant there was no denying it. 

“Angels come in all different shapes and sizes. Besides, this isn’t what I actually look like. This is just the body that was given to me so I could be here on Earth.” replied Aziraphale, trying to hide his shame. 

Suddenly a loud angry shriek could be heard coming from the bedroom, followed by shrill barking and the shouts of Adam and Pepper. What in heaven’s name was happening? When Dog emerged from the bedroom, all seemed clear. The canine had the remains of a poor houseplant in its mouth and was making a run for the front yard with Adam and Pepper running behind it, and a devastated Crowley chasing all 3 of them. 

“ ** _SOMEBODY STOP THAT DOG” _ ** yelled Crowley. Despite constantly subjecting the plants to daily doses of fear, he was in fact, quite attached to his plants. 

Everyone stopped what they were doing and ran after Dog, who was soon stopped by a tackle from Adam halfway to the front gate. Adam took the chewed up leaves out of Dog’s mouth and regretfully handed them to Crowley, who looked like a parent that was being handed a severely injured child. The rest of the group stood in silence, watching as Crowley carefully took the leaves into his hands without a word. Aziraphale gasped as he watched the scene unfold, and he soon became worried for both the children and for Crowley. 

“I-I’m sorry” mumbled Adam, and Dog whined in repent. 

Crowley merely nodded in acknowledgement of the apology, but he still didn’t speak a word, or break eye contact from the chewed up leaves in his hands. 

“I think it’s best if you all ran along home now” said Aziraphale, slowly making his way to Crowley and resting his hand on the demon’s shoulder to offer some comfort. “I’m terribly sorry dear children.” 

The Them all looked at each other and nodded in agreement. One by one they sadly waved goodbye to the angel, whispering a little apology on their way out. Within a few moments they had all mounted their bicycles and rode off into the distance. With his hand still on Crowley’s shoulder, Aziraphale carefully ushered him inside. The demon was still in a sad trance like state, his gaze fixated on the torn up leaves in his hands. Once inside, Aziraphale slowly backed away from Crowley, sensing that the other would explode at any second now. Sure enough, just as Aziraphale was a few steps out of range, Crowley let out a pained shriek of despair. 

“Oh come now dear boy” said Aziraphale in between Crowley’s cries “The dog didn’t know any better. Besides, you have lots of other beautiful houseplants that you have cared for and grown yourself! You’ve taken such good care of them.” 

“B-b-but it’s HURT!” whined Crowley. Nobody but himself was allowed to harm the plants. 

“Aw yes… poor plant” mumbled Aziraphale, a bit unsure of how to proceed. He had never seen Crowley in such a state before, except for when the Bentley burst into flames. “Ah! You could just miracle it back together.” 

“But it’s still torn!” Crowley whined back “..underneath it all” 

“Oh give me that” the angel stepped forward and took the leaves out of Crowley’s hands. He then marched off into the bedroom in search of the injured plant, and he miracled the leaves right back to where they once stood. “There!” he shouted from the bedroom “Come take a look darling” 

Crowley slowly walked into the room, and there he saw Aziraphale proudly holding up the perfectly intact plant in its pot. A smile soon spread upon the demon’s lips. While he knew the plant had still been torn apart, it made him happy to see that the angel was willing to do a little something to cheer him up. 

“I suppose I should thank you now” Crowley said sheepishly. 

Aziraphale swatted the air with his hand, as if deflecting Crowley’s words. “Oh no need for that, dearest. I’m simply happy that I could make you feel even a little bit better.” 

Crowley wanted to lean in and kiss the angel, but he was soon reminded of what happened the last time they kissed, and he held himself back. Today had been an overwhelming rollercoaster ride of emotions, ranging from joy to worry over ice cream, then back to joy, despair, and now painful longing. 

“I should uh.. I should go take the moving truck back, and pick up the Bentley” said Crowley “do you want to come with me, angel?” 

Aziraphale hesitated a moment. He wasn’t sure if his presence would comfort the demon, or if he needed some alone time to grieve his beloved house plant. In addition, there were a few unpleasant emotions that Aziraphale also wanted to deal with, but he needed to be alone for that. 

“Ah, no it’s quite alright dear boy. You can run along. I’ll stay behind and finish up the home, if you don’t mind, of course.” replied Aziraphale with a warm smile to hide the guilt that was creeping up inside him again. 

“Alright” Crowley nodded in agreement. “I won’t be long then.” and with that he left the room and headed outside. 

Aziraphale waited until he could no longer hear the engine of the moving truck on the road, and then he dramatically let himself fall onto the new black suede couch that Crowley had miracled into the living room. He let out a loud whine of disappointment, and now all he could think about was the stupid ice cream and waffle cup he had consumed earlier, and the remarks made by the children. If even the kids could see how fat he was, he didn’t even want to think about how disappointed Crowley was at his figure. If they were going to be living together now, Aziraphale had to do something to lose the weight so he could be comfortable getting intimate with his partner. They were still a long way away from that stage in the relationship, they had just barely kissed, but he knew that eventual intimacy was inevitable. Suddenly, it occurred to Aziraphale that there was perhaps something he could do about the ice cream. He remembered how humans could get sick and purge out the contents of their stomachs, and he had unfortunately witnessed a few people induce this on their own by shoving their fingers into their throats. Most of the people he saw do this were trying to play at being sick to avoid work or school, but regardless the process still emptied out the contents of their stomachs. 

The angel walked over to the kitchen sink, bowed his head, and shoved two fingers into his throat. At first it only made him cough a bit, so he tried again, pushing harder this time, still no results. Aziraphale continued to try and try, but to no avail, though each time he felt he was getting closer to making himself purge. Tears began to run down his cheeks as he continued to dry heave over the gaping hole of the sink drain. He soon began to feel like a failure, unable to do something so simple that humans were able to do it without much effort. He couldn’t seem to stick to his promise of avoiding food and now he couldn’t even purge! Another set of harsh words now rang through his mind. 

“ _ You pathetic excuse for an angel!”  _

At this moment, Aziraphale truly believed that. He was nothing more than a fat pathetic excuse of an angel that couldn’t even stick to his own promises and plans. He had to succeed at  _ something  _ for once in his existence. If it wasn’t for him, but for Crowley. He wanted to be a lover worthy of being by Crowley’s side. The demon always looked so stylish and cool, and while Aziraphale knew he would never reach that level of presentation, he could at least slim down enough to where he no longer looked like an oddity next to Crowley. With this thought in mind, he pushed his fingers back one last time. Finally, after about 40 minutes, he felt the acidic burn go up his throat, into his mouth, and pour out into the sink drain. With eyes closed he continued to heave and wretch, purging out as much as he could until nothing but little trickles of bile were coming out of his mouth. At last, he had succeeded at something. Aziraphale cleaned himself up and went back to organizing the cottage. Crowley would return soon, and he wanted everything to be ready and done for his arrival. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read my pre-canon fic about Crowley having been the Archangel Raphael prior to the great war and the fall. Please please please. https://archiveofourown.org/works/20372062/chapters/48312439


	4. Domestic Strife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley are off to a rough start as life under the same roof is not as effortless as they imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lies, lies, and more liiiieeesss!  
With special guest appearances by Snake Crowley, Anathema, and a cheesecake! 
> 
> I said this would be extra slow burn and I am sticking to my word. I'm making you all wait for that gay shit. After 6,000 years of pushing each other away every time they got too close, you really think they're gonna fuck the night after armageddidn't? No! 
> 
> A very domestic chapter, setting the scene for their future together. I'm taking my time with revealing their ED's to each other because in reality that happens very often! People don't realize that someone has an ED even if they live together! 
> 
> As always, stay safe. Take care of yourselves. Stay hydrated. Don't discorporate.

“ _ I won’t be long.”  _ said Crowley before leaving the cottage and walking to the moving truck placed nearby. He quietly climbed in and drove off, out of Tadfield, heading back towards central London to retrieve his own vehicle. The drive back was nowhere near as pleasant as the drive there. For starters, Aziraphale was not by his side his time. The traffic that had been earlier used as an excuse to talk about their new future together, was now an excuse for Crowley to berate himself and overwhelm himself in regret. The demon couldn’t help but entertain the thought that deciding to move in together was far too impulsive and a bad decision. They wouldn’t be alone now. Crowley knew that now it was only a matter of time before the angel began nit picking his habits and ways of life. He was primarily concerned with 3 topics: 

  1. Aziraphale would soon learn that the secret to the houseplants’ perfect lush green growth was fear.
  2. It was likely that Crowley would no longer be able to sleep as much as he liked
  3. Aziraphale would find out about Crowley’s obsession with thinness

The thought of being this vulnerable terrified the demon. While he was one to enjoy and embrace change, these were aspects that he wished to keep as they are, and he should have thought about that before so eagerly suggesting that they move in together (This was technically Crowley’s idea since Aziraphale originally envisioned them living in the same town not the same home). While there was nothing wrong with wanting to be and remain thin, or so Crowley thought, he did not like the idea of someone else finding this out about him. It was far too vulnerable, and would expose his long standing pain regarding the fall. Everyone else had gotten over it, but not Crowley, and he knew no one would take him seriously if they found out he still wished to return to what once was. Not even his beloved Aziraphale, in all his goodness, would understand these emotions for he had not fallen himself. Aziraphale was exactly as he should be, an angel of light and love, perfect in every way. There was no stolen identity or sense of misplacement. 

Crowley couldn’t stop thinking about the first kiss they had shared, and how abruptly it ended. Now that they would be living together, surely another opportunity would arise, but would it be cut short just the same? Crowley blamed himself for Aziraphale’s sudden halt. Of course the angel would push away. He likely couldn’t stand being that close to such a disgusting and vile demonic being. There was still far too much of his demonic body in existence. Crowley was nowhere near thin enough to be worthy of such pure angelic love. Aziraphale couldn’t help but love the demon, as it was his nature, he was a being of love after all. However, in order to be close to Crowley, to be able to touch him, Aziraphale needed as much of the demonic body to be withered away. Only then, with as much demonic presence as possible no longer in existence, would the angel be capable of embracing him with love. Perhaps then, with Crowley weak and frail, Aziraphale’s love would nurture him into something less evil and less loathsome. Such was Crowley’s warped perspective. 

When he finally reached his old flat, it occurred to him that maybe he could try to make it up to the angel with a small gift. Something sweet to finally bury the hatchet of that one night in the bookshop. With that in mind, Crowley drove around central London in his Bentley, searching for the ideal place to pop in and get a housewarming gift for his angel. He finally opted to head into Sainsbury’s to pick up a tin full of biscuits, a few boxes of tea, and a small cheesecake, remembering that the angel had mentioned he would often go to pick up these exact items to keep with him through long lonely nights at the bookshop while he wrote memos to send back to the head office in Heaven. Satisfied with the haul, Crowley picked up a gift bag to put the items into, and then he got back into the Bentley to make the drive to his new home. The mood had lifted, despite his self hatred still being ever present, the demon now looked forward to seeing the angel react to the surprise. 

Back at the cottage, night had fallen on Tadfield, and Aziraphale was turning on the soft yellow lights as the finishing touches to their home. Everything was where it should be, dark new furniture contrasted by warm toned bookshelves, and the occasional splash of dark green provided by a potted houseplant. Finally, Aziraphale set a vinyl down onto the old phonograph he brought over from the bookshop and the sound of a slow trumpet filled the space. All that was missing was Crowley, and it would be home. As if by magic, the doorbell rang and Aziraphale quickly perked up. 

“Speak of the devil” he said, as he walked over to open the door, a light spring in his step. “Crowley! Welcome home dear boy!” the words felt heavy on Aziraphale’s lips, he hadn’t ever in a thousand years imagined he would be saying such a thing, and yet he did. This was reality. 

“Hello angel” replied Crowley with his signature cocky smirk. He walked into the cottage, hips almost swaying to the beat of the subtle swing track playing in the background. The door slammed shut at the hit of the high hat. 

“I brought you something” he said, proudly holding out the gift bag to his side. “Come and get it, angel.”

“Oh Crowley! Why you shouldn’t have!” Aziraphale blushed. 

“You don’t even know what’s in it yet and you’re already saying such niceties.” Crowley whined, and he gave the bag a little shake. “Don’t you want to know what’s inside? Or must I tempt you into opening it?” 

“You wily old serpent you” Aziraphale’s blush deepened “You don’t have to spread evil anymore you know.” said the angel with a sheepish smirk.

“Old habits die hard” replied the demon haughtily before tossing the gift bag towards the other. 

Aziraphale miraculously caught the gift bag and he eagerly looked inside, only to be met with dismay and guilt. He walked over to the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter to pull out the contents and display them on the countertop beside it, each item more stressful than the next. First came the tea, while that was in no way bad, Aziraphale knew what would likely follow this, and his hunch was correct. The tin of biscuits came after, followed by the worst item of all, the cheesecake. 

“Oh Crowley” he said, uncertain of how to proceed “Why thank you. This is ah… very sweet of you.” Aziraphale’s tone of voice betrayed the grateful smile he put on for the other. 

Almost instantly Crowley knew something was amiss. Aziraphale was usually thrilled to receive sweets, but he seemed to be almost upset by this gift and Crowley knew he was trying to hide that displeasure under false gratitude. The demon began to feel his stomach turning into knots. What had he done wrong? How was it possible that he managed to upset the angel yet again?

“What’s wrong?” asked Crowley “You don’t like it?” 

Aziraphale tried to quickly come up with an excuse for his sour reaction. 

“I-I-It’s just that… this reminds me of… the bookshop” responded Aziraphale, keeping his gaze down. “I was um… it was established in the year 1800… I’ve been there since, and ah.. It’s gone now.” his voice trailed off. “I know that it was my decision to come here to Tadfield but uhm… well, it’s just a bit of a sad goodbye. It was certainly high time I moved on!” a nervous laugh escaped him, he wasn’t sure if Crowley was buying his bluff or not. “Yes, I needed to move on but… but you know me and change!” he whined and finally looked up to the demon with a bratty little pout. “That’s all though. Thank you for the gift. Really! It’s lovely, and I can’t wait to dig in.” 

“Oh angel,” said Crowley in a soft voice, “I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought about how much that place meant to you.” 

Aziraphale’s bluff had worked. 

“You don’t have to eat it yet if you don’t want to. Take your time mourning that little old bookshop if it makes you feel better.” Crowley shrugged and walked off towards the black suede couch in the living room. It was a relief to know that he hadn’t entirely upset the angel. It was simply a case of nostalgia, and Aziraphale’s reluctance to change. With a dramatic sigh, Crowley plopped himself onto the couch, allowing his worry to melt away as he melted into the furniture. 

Aziraphale gave a small sigh of relief and began to put away the items into cupboards, making sure to shove the cheesecake at the very back of the refrigerator, despite the fact that it was the sole item in there. He then walked over towards Crowley, who was sprawled out on the couch humming along to the swing track playing on the phonograph that was tucked away into a corner. Aziraphale sat on the armchair nearby, his gaze fixated on the demon in front of him. Crowley looked so elegant, so suave, so carefree and  _ light.  _ The angel’s eyes followed the lines of Crowley’s long slender torso, down to his lean legs that took up a substantial part of the couch. Aziraphale was once more hit with the desire to be smaller. If only he was thinner, he could squeeze himself onto the remaining bit of space on the couch right beside Crowley, but instead he had to sit at a distance, on the armchair. If only he was thinner, he could be the missing puzzle piece, and fit snugly beside the demon he so admired. If only. 

“So what exactly do you do when you’re at home alone?” asked Aziraphale. Night had fallen, and the two had no idea of what to do now. Neither of them needed to sleep. There was no more work that needed to be done or memos to be written. They were suddenly left with a pile of time that could be spent  _ together.  _ Normally these nocturnal moments of free time were spent alone, with each one partaking in their own preferred leisure activities. For Aziraphale, that was usually eating, or reading while eating, or writing… and eating. 

“I revert to my snake form and take a bath” replied Crowley sarcastically, his gaze tilted up towards the ceiling, glasses still covering his serpentine eyes. 

“Oh? S-should I give you a bit of privacy or… set up a bath for you?” asked Aziraphale, who had naively been far too wrapped up in his own grievances to have noticed the sarcasm.

“I was joking angel” a slightly cruel grin spread on Crowley’s lips; amusement. “I usually sleep or watch Golden Girls on TV, tend to the plants a bit, that sort of thing.”

Unimpressed, and mildly embarrassed, Aziraphale huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “How rude of you. I was quite looking forward to seeing you in your serpentine form. I haven’t seen that since the days of Eden.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows and directed his gaze towards the angel. Now this was news to him. He had no idea that the angel wanted to see him in his natural form. Did Aziraphale have a preference for that? Did he dislike Crowley’s human form that much? Or was it truly mere curiosity? Whatever it was, it definitely prompted him to be complacent, and give the angel what he wanted. 

“Is that so?” said Crowley with a sly smile “Wish granted.” 

In the blink of an eye, he was gone, and out from the pile of black clothes slithered out a large black and red snake with bright amber eyes. Crowley made his way towards the armchair, curling himself around it to work his way up to Aziraphale’s face. 

“Is thisss what you wanted?” hissed Crowley, lightly grazing his forked tongue against the angel’s soft cheek. 

Aziraphale’s face instantly turned bright red, and he sat there, frozen. He had not at all expected Crowley to respond to his whining by giving him exactly what he wanted. It had been  _ thousands  _ of years since Aziraphale had seen this side of Crowley, and even back then, he had never seen it so close up. Serpent Crowley continued to glide around, making his way over Aziraphale’s shoulders, down his torso, and onto his lap where he decided that the angel’s soft warm thighs would make a perfect resting place. His long body rolled up into a coil, pressing himself against the angel’s belly, the warmest softest place, perfect for a cold blooded serpent. 

“A-a-ah… not there, please?” Aziraphale’s voice trembled “I’m afraid I’m awfully ticklish dear boy. I-I could kick you off! I don’t want to hurt you!” 

Crowley’s diamond head tilted sideways in confusion. He hadn’t known the angel to be ticklish, but he could sense the tension in Aziraphale’s body. He was clearly uncomfortable, so Crowley simply complied and slid off, working his way back up to the angel’s head. 

“Isss thisss better?” asked the snake 

“Oh yes! Much better! Thank you.” responded Aziraphale. “I uh.. Well I suppose this is expected of me, but I uh usually spend my free nights reading until morning. I guess you can stay up there if you’re comfortable, or just go off to do whatever it is you’d like.” 

“Oh you’re sssso boring!” whined Crowley “How about you watch Golden Girls with me?” 

Aziraphale sighed. Not even one whole day of living together and they were already arguing on what to do. 

“But you know I don’t like television!” Aziraphale responded in a similarly whiny tone. “It’s far too distracting. It’s an absolute assault on the senses with all those fast moving images, colors, and noises.” 

“Close your eyes then” snapped Crowley, flicking on the television in the room with a simple nod. “Just listen to them if it bothers you that much to watch.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes before closing them, just to give it a try. Only about 10 minutes passed before his patience was up. 

“Oh I can’t do this!” he complained 

“Aw come on angel! It’s kind of like sleeping!” replied Crowley 

“Well I don’t sleep!” Aziraphale snapped back “It makes me anxious just to think about it.” 

“Fine then, leave!” Crowley was beginning to get quite irritated. “Go hide behind your stacks of books like you always do, and don’t mind me. Even though I subjected myself to crawling on my stomach just for your amusement!” 

There was a pause. Despite the noise from the television and the ongoing vinyl forgotten in the corner, it felt as if there was a deafening silence in the room. The two hadn’t so much as bickered since their argument on the bandstand about two weeks ago. 

“You’re right… I’m sorry” Aziraphale said solemnly, and with this he slowly got up from the armchair, picking the snake off his head and setting Crowley back down to where he had just sat. “This is your home now too. You may do as you wish. I was being too insensitive.” Aziraphale began to walk away, looking back to a still serpentine Crowley just before he was out of sight. “I’ll be in the chalet should you need anything.” he said, and then walked off. 

In the book filled chalet, Aziraphale did just as Crowley said he would, he hid behind a pile of books on his desk and he began to ask himself if this had been a bad idea. The guilt ridden angel was on the verge of tears. He had just greatly upset the being whom he loved so dearly, starting from the very moment he opened up the gift. 

_ The gift.  _

Before he could stop himself, Aziraphale had miracled the contents of the bag onto the desk in front of him. Whenever anxiety nibbled at his mind, Aziraphale had the habit of fighting it by nibbling away at something else. Guilt welled up in him again as he looked at the sweets before him. He felt guilty for not having accepted the gift eagerly. He felt guilty for arguing with Crowley. He felt guilty for ever suggesting this move. He felt guilty for taking up so much space. The guilt was so overwhelming that Aziraphale decided to open up the box of cheesecake, a fork manifesting itself beside the box, and he then took a large forkful of cake, closing his eyes and moaning softly at the delicate creaminess that graced his tongue. This was how he wanted to be for Crowley, sweet, gentle, enjoyable, but instead he was nothing but whiny, greedy, and stubborn. So he took another bite, followed by another, and another, until all that was left of the cheesecake were small crumbs scattered across the desk. Without another thought, Aziraphale opened up the biscuit tin, not even bothering to set water to boil for tea to accompany the sweets. He devoured them just as quickly, leaving behind only a blanket of crumbs on the desk. Now left with nothing, Aziraphale got up from the desk in search of something else to indulge in.

“I’ll just get some more from the-” 

He stopped himself. This was not his bookshop. He couldn’t just get up and go get some more snacks from his stash, because that was no longer there. Aziraphale melted back into the swivel chair in defeat. 

“Oh dear…” he mumbled to himself, now realizing how he had torn through the snacks and worse, was still left wanting more. 

Self restraint was his problem. Aziraphale didn’t ever know when to stop eating, when to stop complaining, when to stop talking. If only he could have stopped himself from whining, he would be cuddled up with Crowley right now. Maybe they could have given that kiss another try, but no, he had whined and complained that opportunity away. He thought of the demon, elegantly sprawled out on the couch with only a small space left for someone to sit. Oh how badly Aziraphale wanted to be there, to fit snugly beside Crowley, to fit in his slender arms. Just how much did he love Crowley? More than anything, of course, but he had to prove that. Aziraphale had to prove that he loved Crowley above anything else. Aziraphale vowed to give up food as a gesture of love. Yes, everyone knew how much Aziraphale loved food, but he loved Crowley even more. 

Sunlight began to pour in from the windows, bathing the books in a soft yellow glow. Aziraphale felt a slight bit of hope, a new beginning brought upon by the new day. He would start again, and this time he would do it right. He would be everything Crowley needed, and he would become smaller, thinner, in doing so. 

“Angel?” came Crowley’s voice from just outside the door, “Can I come in?” 

Aziraphale couldn’t be more delighted. “Crowley!” he quickly sprung up from the desk and ran to get the door “Oh Crowley! Do come in!” 

Crowley had returned to his human form, and was now standing there in front of Aziraphale, fully dressed and looking a bit solemn. 

“I’m sorry!” they both blurted out. There was silence for a moment before the pair erupted into laughter at their unified timing. 

“Would you um… would you like to help me with the garden today?” Aziraphale asked nervously “I thought I could go down to the market to buy some seeds and get started on planting a few flowers in the back. Maybe some vegetables as well.” 

“Sure thing. I like plants” replied Crowley with a smile. “And I like… you.” Crowley yearned to lean in and close the space between them, but he resisted, remembering that he had to be slow and careful around the angel. At least from here, Crowley could see the shine in Aziraphale’s crisp cerulean eyes caught in the morning sunlight. “There’s so much I want to do with you angel” he whispered. 

“We have all the time in the world to do it all” replied Aziraphale, his voice soft and slow, like honey. 

The moment seemed to last an eternity. The two gazing ever so lovingly into each others eyes while the birds sang their morning tunes and the sun climbed higher, changing the tone of the sky from a refreshing grey to a bright blue. 

“Shall I tempt you to breakfast?” asked Crowley.

“Ah, no that’s quite alright!” Aziraphale was a bit flustered now “I already helped myself to your gift. It was very delicious, and uhm… very kind of you. I’m sorry that my actions didn’t reflect my gratitude.” 

Well this was certainly a first. Aziraphale never turned down an opportunity for the pair to dine together. Despite becoming suspicious, Crowley remained silent because he couldn’t think of an excuse to press the matter further. 

Later that afternoon, the two were toiling away under the warm summer sun, working the land in the backyard to plant new seeds and a few potted flowers they had bought from the farmer’s market that morning in the town centre. Crowley was absolutely thrilled. Not only did he enjoy plants, but he enjoyed watching Aziraphale working the day away in very little clothing (by the angel’s prudish standards). Aziraphale donned a white cotton chemise, short sleeved, with the top 3 buttons left undone, exposing just a peak of his pale chest to the sunlight. This was paired with sturdy beige shorts, reaching just below the knee, leaving his plush calves out for Crowley to see. While Crowley appeared to be diligently working, he was wrapped up in sinful thoughts about the angel. All he could think about was beads of sweat slowly rolling down the angel's soft luxurious form, past the soft slope of Aziraphale's curves, disappearing into hidden crevices awaiting Crowley's eager exploration. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice coming from the other side of the fence. 

"So you two really  _ are  _ here after all!" said the voice, belonging to a bespectacled Anathema Device, a familiar voice indeed. 

Aziraphale looked up from the seeds he was planting. "Anathema! How lovely to see you again dear." he took off his gardening gloves and made his way toward the fence, Crowley silently following. 

"Hello Aziraphale," she replied with a smile. "The kids stopped by my cottage yesterday and told me you were in town." 

“Ah yes, they helped us finish unpacking yesterday. Such energetic little ones!” said Aziraphale, remembering the events of the day before. “Won’t you come in for tea dear?” 

“Um sure, thank you. I’ll meet you up at the front.” replied Anathema, pointing towards the road ahead which would circle around to the front door of the cottage. 

Aziraphale nodded in response and then made his way towards the front door with Crowley trailing behind, he still hadn’t said a word. Crowley was admittedly a bit jealous. He wanted Aziraphale all to himself now, but he didn’t know how to smoothly proceed when the two were completely alone. The demon was nowhere near as charming and suave as he appeared to be, especially not around Aziraphale. The pattern he seemed to be stuck in was first making impulsive advances toward the angel, only to panic when he realized how close they were getting, resulting in one or both pushing away, denying their desires and becoming upset and distant for a while. Rinse and repeat. 

“Come on in,” said Aziraphale with a warm smile as he opened the door for their witchy friend. 

Anathema cautiously stepped through the door, her eyes wandering around the room, bouncing from furniture to decor and back again. 

“Wow,” she said, mostly to herself at first, “It’s a nice place you have here.” 

“Why thank you!” replied a cheery Aziraphale, “Please, make yourself comfortable while I quickly clean myself up and bring out the tea. Crowley dear, can you get a chair for the young lady?” 

“Sure thing” mumbled Crowley, reaching over to pull out a chair for Anathema from the dining table and then disappearing to clean himself off from the garden dirt. 

Anathema sat alone at the table, taking in the sights of the new cottage, and the odd situation at hand. Only a few minutes pass before Aziraphale emerges with a tray carrying a dainty porcelain tea set and some small biscuits. 

“My apologies for the messy appearance,” said Aziraphale as he sat the tray down on the table and began pouring tea for Anathema. “I never spent much time in America, but I know tea time isn’t so popular there. I hope you like this earl grey blend. Crowley brought it just last night from Sainsbury’s. Speaking of which, where is that sneaky demon?” 

“I think he went to wash off,” replied Anathema as she reached out for two sugar cubes to drop into her tea. “And don’t worry, I like earl grey. Thank you for this.” 

“Ah, very well.” Aziraphale smiled and took a seat beside Anathema. 

“Sorry if this is too forward but, why are you two here?” she asked “Is something wrong again?” 

“Oh no nothing is wrong my dear” Aziraphale said as he prepared his own tea “Everything is tickety boo! No need to worry.” 

Anathema didn’t seem too convinced. “If nothing is wrong… then why are you here? Vacation?” 

“Something like that,” replied a voice from behind, it was Crowley who had now reemerged all cleaned up. “Is there any tea left for me?” 

“Yes of course dear boy,” Aziraphale pointed to the 3rd tea cup on the tray “take a seat with us.” 

Crowley happily walked over to make himself comfortable beside the angel, taking a cup of tea into his hands, sugar free. 

“Wait wait wait,” Anathema was even more confused now “you two are just here because you want to be? Together? Aren’t you an angel and a demon?” 

Crowley and Aziraphale both looked at each other for a moment and then replied in unison “Yes”

“We’ve known each other for a very long time” said Aziraphale, taking a sip of his tea 

“6,000 years give or take” Crowley finished the sentence. 

“I’m not very good at being an angel” Aziraphale now turned to look lovingly at Crowley 

“I wasn’t great at being a demon either. I didn’t even mean to fall,” Crowley too, turned to look at the angel. 

“After we all stopped Armageddon together heaven and hell just let us be, and um well… Now we’re both here. Together.” Aziraphale inched his hand closer to Crowley’s. Their fingers were now barely touching. 

Anathema watched the exchange wide eyed, and she let out an audible gasp when their hands came closer together. 

“Oh my god! You two are a  _ couple? _ ” she blurted out in shock. 

A still silence followed, and the pair looked at each other a bit confused at first. No one had referred to them as a couple before. They hadn’t even thought about it themselves yet. They were simply each other, spending time together. 

“Well, I guess we are…” Aziraphale raised his brows, but never looking away from Crowley

“...a couple?” Crowley finished the sentence, a smile growing on his face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole bit about Azi opening the bookshop in 1800 came from a deleted scene included in a rare version of the script companion book. Screenshots are floating somewhere on twitter. Mr. Neil Himself confirmed that they are 100% authentic deleted scenes from episode 3 where we see the two halves of one whole idiot through the ages. All hail the Regency era!


	5. Cold Brew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley go on a double date with Anathema and Newt. Together, the three are determined to help bring Aziraphale out of his old fashioned shell and into the modern world no matter how much he may resist. Karma kicks Crowley where it hurts the most as he comes face to face with his past evil doings, all while Aziraphale finally decides to own up to his recent mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry for not having updated in a long while, I simply couldn't bring myself to exist and took a vacation to the 7th dimension. It's lovely up there. 
> 
> As a reward for your patience here is a lengthy chapter filled with everything from comedic relief, to insecurities, doubt, angst, iced coffee, and *gasp* possibly some explicit displays of affection?

“We’re a _ couple” _

This was the first time they had acknowledged their relationship properly. Aziraphale and Crowley both had butterflies in their stomachs at this moment, their feelings for each other now being properly cemented in words uttered out loud and witnessed by a third party. As they were meant to be on opposite sides, neither one of them ever imagined that one day they would be referred to as a unit, one whole, as they truly made each other feel whole. Yet now, at the moment Anathema uttered those words, this millenia long fantasy had become their reality.

-

Over tea, the pair learned of Anathema’s plans to extend her stay. She had meant to only remain in Tadfield until the apocalypse was averted, but a young man by the name of Newton Pulsifer inspired a change of plans. As such, a shopping trip was an order. Anathema could only live out of suitcases for so long. Crowley had nearly jumped with glee at the suggestion of a shopping trip as double date between the two couples. Vanity and his angel, the two things he loved most. Aziraphale, on the other hand, was not too thrilled at the idea. He hadn’t actually been in a modern mall, and he was quite reluctant to do so. Much to the angel’s dismay, this fact only proved instrumental in setting this shopping date in stone. Both Anathema and Crowley were all too eager to begin introducing Aziraphale to the luxuries of the modern world, which he had for so long tried to avoid. Despite his initial excitement, Crowley began to feel reluctant as the date approached, all the insecurities he held about his flesh vessel creeping up on him, but it was too late to back out of the plans. The day came, and the three piled into Crowley’s beloved Bentley. They agreed to meet Newt in the mall that afternoon for their vanity filled double date. 

“Crowley… Please… I beg of you… try to drive decently today. There is an actual human being, capable of literally _ dying, _present in this vehicle.” said Aziraphale as he settled into the passenger seat of the Bentley, referring to a now frightened Anathema sitting in the back. 

“Wait what?” she replied in horror, but her words were ignored as the loud roar of the engine drowned out the sound of her voice.

Crowley looked over to Aziraphale exasperated already, and though no one could see it, the angel knew that beneath those large Valentino sunglasses Crowley was slowly rolling his eyes in complaint. The demon flicked on the car stereo’s volume, a bit too loud for anyone but Crowley’s liking, and they drove off as _ Run Run Run _by The Velvet Underground blasted from the speakers. 

“What is that awful noise?” complained Aziraphale 

“Not bebop” replied Crowley in a sassy tone. 

Aziraphale shot a stern glare at the other in response “Well you were right, I don’t like it.” he said as he reached over to turn the stereo knob, lowering the volume until the cacophony of sound turned into a more bearable background noise. 

“The… Velvet Underground?” Anathema said puzzlingly, as she looked at the album sitting between the two front seats. “Who are they?”

“Oh I hate the youth” Crowley whined, only to be silently reprimanded by another of Aziraphale’s stern glares which could only mean ‘_ behave yourself’. _

On the surface, both angel and demon were behaving perfectly in character, but beneath their typical teasing each one was fraught with anxiety that only worsened as they approached their destination. Aziraphale did not like the idea of malls. To him they were just overwhelming nesting grounds filled with temptation, greed, and jealousy all dancing to the tune of bad pop hits created for a superficial modern age, and he did not want to be there. However, it was the clothing that worried him most of all. Aziraphale’s clothing was becoming quite tight and ill fitting as of late, and to him this used to mean a trip to the tailor to fix what he believed were garments shrinking from years of laundry. Now he realized that this was not in fact due to excessive drying, as he previously believed, but rather it was because he was getting bigger due to his affinity for indulging in edible delicacies. The angel knew he needed new clothing, but he dreaded to think of having to sift through racks of modern vestments to find something that fit his soft body. Even worse, Crowley in his model thin frame, would be right there the entire time likely gawking at Aziraphale’s taste, or lack thereof, and size, or so he thought. 

Crowley was having a similar mental crisis. While he liked to keep up with the rapidly changing fashions of the times, he hadn’t enjoyed the luxury of leisure shopping since he was tasked with watching the not antichrist child, Warlock. It had been quite a bit over a decade since the demon had last enjoyed a good mall crawl, and he was now anxious to see how his body had changed in the previous handful of years. Since the invention of fast fashion and stores filled with racks of pret a porter clothing to choose from, Crowley had developed a bit of a fetish for going into these stores and squeezing himself into the smallest sizes possible. It filled him with a twisted sense of accomplishment and pride every time he found himself fitting into the next size down. This made him develop an odd personal goal of wanting to become small enough to fit into the smallest size available. The demon now worried himself with thoughts of failing to accomplish his silent goal. 

Anathema on the other hand, had a much more pressing worry. She was worried for her life, as Crowley’s rising anxieties made his driving more and more erratic as they neared the city centre. Meanwhile, Aziraphale took his worries out by yelling at poor Crowley about his bad driving, only making it worse. The word relief wasn’t anywhere near adequate to convey the feeling Anathema had once they finally reached a parking space in the mall car park, sensing the stable ground beneath her still trembling feet. 

“Are you alright my dear?” Aziraphale asked Anathema, approaching her with the same caution as one would use to approach a frightened woodland creature or something of the like. 

Anathema nodded rapidly before finding her breath to speak, “yeah I think I’m alright.” 

“She’s in one piece!” yelled Crowley, slamming the door shut behind him “Not a limb out of place. No discorporation. Not even a bruise. Really angel you should give me more credit. I’m not all that bad at driving.” 

“The poor girl is absolutely terrified!” Aziraphale snapped back before quickly returning his attention to Anathema, who was still visibly shaken “I do apologize for that, my dear. Let’s go find this Newt you speak so highly of, walk out your anxieties, and get a wiggle on with this shopping trip shall we?” 

It seemed to be a miracle, or perhaps simply angelic presence, but Anathema quickly regained her composure and the three were on their way into the ground floor of the mall, eyes on the lookout for the young bespectacled chap named Newton. Almost immediately upon entering the building Aziraphale visibly tensed up. It was like walking into a city within a city, but with a higher concentration of fashionable young people wandering around in groups or pairs, and Aziraphale felt remarkably out of place. Before the angel could think himself into a prison of worry a gentle hand on the small of his back interrupted his thoughts. 

“You’ll be alright, angel” Crowley’s voice was a soft purr and Aziraphale felt his body relax ever so slightly by the demon’s light touch. It was soothing to know that Crowley had his back, no pun intended. 

“Newt!” Anathema soon caught sight of the young man and she eagerly made her way past the crowds to greet him with a kiss, completely oblivious to the more subtle exchange of affection made by the two occult beings behind her. 

As the pair caught up with the two humans it soon became evident that they weren’t the only ones nervous about this shopping endeavour. Aziraphale, for one, was left more at ease now that he could sense Newton’s discomfort. A brief moment was taken for formal introductions, and then they were all off, with Anathema spearheading the group through the weekend crowds in their journey for a wardrobe upgrade. It wasn’t long before Aziraphale’s attention was being called out to by the others shouting his name and holding up some kind of garment in the hopes that he would try it on. They (the humans in particular) seemed very eager to pull the angel out of his retro look and into a more modern version of his librarian chic trademark style. It was almost as if they considered his makeover a challenge. Crowley was more than happy to contribute his own style suggestions as his demonic imagination quickly began to picture the angel’s body clothed in a variety of garment options spread out on the racks before them. As was his nature, Crowley’s mind soon gave into lust, as he pictured Aziraphale squeezing into a pair of skin tight skinny jeans much like his own, the fabric highlighting the silhouette of plump thighs, thick calves, and a nicely cushioned rear. Perhaps the last time Crowley had seen the shape of Aziraphale’s legs was over a century ago, white Regency era breeches leaving little to the imagination.

All the while Crowley’s mind floated through the gutter, impure thoughts raining in faster than he could cope, Aziraphale was frantically trying to avoid the flashy new garments with polite yet stern rejections. 

“Oh come on! You have to try at least _ one _thing on!” Anathema had little patience left 

Newt took a step closer to Aziraphale and whispered “I don’t like her suggestions any more than you do but I’ll try it once just because I care for her.” 

Aziraphale winced, but he knew that Newt was right. Crowley seemed excited to see Aziraphale in something other than his usual attire so he ought to try on at least a few things for the sake of his beloved. 

“Alright! I’ll pick something out, just ah… give me a minute to choose” 

“This looks suitable” Anathema held out a short sleeved high collar shirt in a pale blue shade with small pearly white buttons going all the way up to the neck and little pink flamingos printed over the blue in a neat pattern. “It’s summer-y, very in season, not too flashy, and still has a collar if that makes you feel any better.” 

“It’s not bad.” replied Newt, trying to encourage Aziraphale, but the angel was looking to Crowley for approval. 

“Oooh yes I like that one.” said Crowley, pulling something else off the rack “it would pair nicely with these” he stretched out his arm, proudly displaying a pair of light beige shorts and an equally light smirk spread across his lips, Aziraphale was in his grasp.

“Fine,” sighed the angel “but you all go on and search for your own items after this! I’m not your mannequin!” he took the garments into his hands and began the walk of shame towards the dreaded fitting rooms. About halfway there he stopped to turn and face the group. Perhaps his nervousness was too evident on his face as the others looked onto him with some concern. 

“Crowley!” his voice begged “W-wont you try something on too? Just.. you know… to support me? I haven’t ever done this before dear boy, you know that.” 

Crowley had been too caught up in thoughts of seeing the angel in a variety of styles that he had all but forgotten about his twisted little goal until this moment. His stomach twisted into a knot as he thought about stepping into a fitting room again after all this time, but he couldn’t bare to see his angel so distressed, not to mention that he was indeed looking forward to seeing Aziraphale in those clothes. 

“Oh alright, angel. Let me just grab something real quick.” he replied, walking over to the nearest rack filled with black articles of clothing. In a short moment he returned with a pair of black bottoms in a shiny material that resembled latex, they were too tight to be pants, but slightly too thick to be leggings. The rest of the group, Aziraphale included, all looked at the garment with an expression of slight shock; bold choice. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale smiled and continued to walk towards the fitting rooms, though the gesture helped relieve him a slight bit, he still felt nearly the same as when he was trapped in the Bastille awaiting execution. As far as Aziraphale was concerned, that dreaded fitting room was much like an execution block, if only he knew it had been Crowley’s demonic doing. 

The two slipped into the cramped chambers, guarded only by a curtain and faced with a full length mirror. If Aziraphale didn’t know any better, he would say this was Hell itself, and from his own post apocalyptic experience, the tight confines and odd lighting of the fitting room did highly resemble the cramped and dim conditions of the infernal pit. This was certainly a demonic creation if he ever saw one. However, the sight before him made the angel wish he was in Hell itself rather than here. It was his very reflection, all of him from head to toe, standing close enough to make it impossible to ignore every flaw. He could see every wrinkle in his clothing, every hair out of place, every worry line in his face, and worst of all, he could clearly see the outline of his pear shaped body beneath his favorite three piece suit. The sight only worsened as he undressed, with each discarded layer of fabric exposing more curves that made up his plump corporation. When he was down to just briefs, Aziraphale stood there for a moment, wallowing in guilt as he examined his bare body under the poor lighting that only served to accentuate his curves, highlighting the plumpest bits and darkening the shadows created by the folds in his skin. 

‘_ What if Crowley saw this?’ _

The silent question brought tears to his eyes as all Aziraphale could envision was his beloved turning away from him in disgust if he ever saw the full repercussions of millenia of indulgence. Not wanting to face his bare reflection any longer, Aziraphale quickly reached for the garments hanging on the wall, but it only made him feel worse as the clothing was just barely too small to fit. His face flushed red with shame, and at that moment he could hear Gabriel’s words as clearly as if the archangel himself was the one staring back at him from the mirror. 

‘_ Lose the gut’ _

Aziraphale sighed to himself as he looked down at his stomach, struggling to fasten the buttons past the curve of his belly. He closed his eyes and miracled the shirt to fit because he knew he wouldn’t be able to cope with the shame of having to admit to the others that he was too big for the clothing. Without a second thought he miracled the beige shorts onto his body, ensuring that they miraculously fit like a glove, for he did not want to find out if he could or could not manage to slip his lower half into the article of clothing. 

In the stall parallel to his own, Crowley was having a similar crisis as he was so rudely reminded that the horror of the fitting room had been of his own demonic design; karma. Just under his breath, Crowley uttered every curse he could think of as he struggled to squeeze into the tight bottoms, the fabric sticking to his skin like glue. 

‘_ Why did you have to be so fucking good at your job?’ _

He cursed the poor lighting and confined space which had been specifically designed to create illusions, warping the wearer’s perspective of their body in the hopes of inspiring more vanity or self hatred. Currently, it was inspiring the latter in Crowley, as he somehow felt he looked terribly large in contrast to the confined space. He glared at the slope of his thighs and calves, wishing they were smaller, and he despised the width of his hips. They were too large, too curvy, too _ snake like _for his tastes. There was nothing Crowley hated more than the painful reminder of what he was, what his association to the wrong crowd had turned him into, and what that meant for him. He glared at his reflection, letting out a slight whimper as he felt the tight discomfort of his lower half. This could only mean one thing, he needed to lose more weight. His self deprecating thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of delighted surprise coming from just outside the fitting rooms.

“Woah! Look at you!” 

“Hey! The style actually suits you really well!” 

“Ooh you look so handsome!” 

Crowley recognized the first two voices as Anathema and Newt, but the third was new to him. Who the fuck was calling _ his _angel handsome? Crowley nearly burst out of the fitting room like an angry bull at a rodeo, only to melt into a puddle as his angel came into view. 

“_ oh” _

Aziraphale looked positively radiant in those bright summer hues, and it took Crowley’s breath away. 

Once more, Aziraphale completely ignored the other’s remarks, however positive they were, and he looked toward Crowley pending approval. “How do I look?” he asked in a sheepish voice.

“Like… like an angel.” replied Crowley, completely dumbfounded by the sight of his beloved in ordinary clothes. For evil’s sake, he could even make the most mundane outfit look absolutely stunning. 

The three human onlookers let out a collective ‘aww’ at the seemingly romantic remark while Aziraphale looked mostly unimpressed, staring at Crowley with an expression that practically yelled out ** _I am an angel you idiot, _ **but at least as far as everyone was concerned, Crowley was his idiot. 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to express how unimpressed he was until he finally noticed the glossy black leggings Crowley had tried on just to make him feel better. 

“And look at you,” Aziraphale said with a cheeky smirk “devilishly handsome”

Behind the teasing sarcasm was genuine mushy admiration, because Crowley _ did _in fact look devilishly handsome standing there before the angel with his long legs glistening under the shop lights, making him appear slightly taller than he is. In that moment, the horrors of the fitting room had been all but forgotten, that is, until he had to go back inside to return to his normal clothing. One more frivolous little miracle later, Aziraphale was back in his 3 piece suit, staring at himself in the mirror. All he could think of was Crowley’s long slender legs, how stylish and handsome he looked, and how pudgy and awkward Aziraphale must have looked in comparison. He re emerged from the fitting room looking a bit defeated. 

“Aw come on that wasn’t so bad!” said Anathema, trying to cheer him up.

_ Oh but it was that bad. _

“I guess not.” he replied with a shy smile. 

“You know what would look great with that?” said the third voice from earlier, it was the shop assistant “a bow tie! They’re over by accessories if you’d like to have a look.” 

“Woo-ee _ more _bow ties,” Crowley’s sarcastic voice came out from behind the curtain, the usual swagger in his step having returned now that his legs were no longer confined to glistening black sleeves one size too small, “You certainly need a few more of those.” but the teasing comment came a tad bit too late, as Aziraphale was already eyeing the area of the shop that the assistant had pointed towards. At this point he would take anything to distract himself from the bitter mood he had been left in from the fitting room fiasco. Aziraphale made his way towards the accessories, a slightly notable urgency in his pace, but the others followed unquestioningly nonetheless. 

“Oh would you look at that! There’s _ tartan _bow ties!” Aziraphale beamed. 

Just after Aziraphale happily announced his discovery of tartan bow ties, their human companions burst into a fit of giggles. Perhaps angelic happiness was contagious, or perhaps they were simply laughing at his predictability. Either way, it set the mood for the next couple hours of their existence. The two couples spent a substantial amount of time giggling over accessories, trying on silly headgear, and even convincing Aziraphale to get a pair of sunglasses similar to Crowley’s, not that he needed much convincing to begin with. The group fluttered about the mall, tearing their way through various racks of clothing in a variety of stores in the same way a group of giddy teenagers on holiday would do so. Aziraphale had decided he would simply pick out clothing items that seemed substantially large enough to fit, and he would miracle them to size once he returned to the cottage, giving the group the excuse that repeatedly undressing from his three piece suit was far too tedious to be constantly trying things on in every fitting room. 

Newt had convinced Anathema to play into the whole witch theme, and she played along by slipping into black summer dresses, flowy dark skirts, and glittering accessories. They all joked about how she looked like Crowley dressed that way, and Crowley fought back with childish remarks that caused them all to burst into laughter, attracting attention from curious onlookers who wondered why a group of adults were acting in such a belligerent fashion. It was moments like these that made stopping armageddon worth while. To witness the joy that humans found in adorning their bodies with multicolored fabrics and bonding with one another. To see how Aziraphale laughed at the sight of Newt in a ridiculously oversized coat. To see Crowley’s brows perk up whenever a shiny garment caught his attention. Most of all, to be able to forget their worries and insecurities by allowing themselves to be just a little bit more human than they had previously been. All was well until they walked into Zara. 

A sleek monochromatic store that stocked mostly minimalist garments, a small taste of posh for those average people who wished to be a part of high fashion, it was all _ so _ Crowley. 

And Aziraphale felt out of place. 

The angel could feel people’s eyes on him as he made his way through the shop, his old fashioned librarian look attracting more attention than he was accustomed to. Crowley seemed to effortlessly glide across the floor, completely unbothered by the glances ranging from jealousy to awe to raw lust for his model like figure. As they walked through, Aziraphale caught glimpses of himself in the various mirrors scattered around the shop, and he began to feel the same way he did as when he was in the fitting room. All the clothing, the mannequins, even the shop assistants were all so slim, and he felt so large in contrast. He stopped to look at himself in a mirror, Crowley trailing off on his own, and he was reminded of the first night they spent in the cottage where he promised himself to learn to give up food to prove his love for Crowley. 

“This blazer is pretty cool,” Anathema’s voice came from his left, and Aziraphale wondered just how long she had been standing there. “It looks a bit small though. I don’t know if they have something your size. Wanna come help me look?” 

It was these words that broke the poor angel. 

“Ah no thank you my dear. It’s quite alright, I already have plenty of things to take home.” Aziraphale flashed her a hollow smile, one that didn’t need 6,000 years worth of familiarity to know that it meant something was wrong. 

“Are you alright?” Anathema looked concerned now, and she set the blazer in question back onto the rack. 

“O-oh? Oh! Oh yes I’m alright.” Maybe it was due to his holy nature, but Aziraphale had never been a very good liar. He was starting to look very flustered, his eyes darting around for an escape, literally or figuratively. 

“Are you sure?” Anathema began to scramble through her mind for a way to remedy the angel’s sudden distress, though she was oblivious to what had brought it on in the first place. “You don’t look alright.” 

“He said he’s fine.” Crowley suddenly appeared behind Anathema, neither angel nor human was sure if he walked over when they were talking or if he literally manifested from thin air. Regardless, he did not sound pleased, and both were reminded of the fact that he was still a demon. “That’s enough, we’re going now.” 

Though no one could see it, they knew Crowley’s serpentine eyes were glaring right at Anathema beneath the dark cover of his sunglasses. He wasn’t quite sure what she had done to upset his angel, but whatever it was, he would have none of it. 

“I’ll uh.. I’ll go find Newt.” Anathema gave Crowley a nervous little smile before scurrying off to find Newton distracted in the men’s corner by the sight of a flashy military style jacket. 

“You alright angel?” Crowley’s voice now softened a bit. 

“I am, thank you.” Aziraphale replied, a soft smile of genuine relief spread on his lips. “Though you didn’t have to scare the poor girl off!” 

“Oh fuck. I’ll make it up to her.” 

“And how exactly do you propose to do that?” 

Crowley wiggled around a little, hands in his pockets, before triumphantly shouting “Coffee!” 

“Coffee?” Aziraphale asked, a bit confused, and slightly unimpressed. 

“Yeah, I’ll get them some of those fancy little coffee beverages. Though they hardly even count as coffee if you ask me.” 

“Oh yes! Those lovely little blended frappes and sugary iced things.” 

Crowley raised a brow “Don’t you like those with all the whipped cream on top?” 

“Yes, they’re like liquid desserts!” Aziraphale said with glee. He had sworn off food, but certainly a drink wouldn’t do any harm. 

The four left the uninviting shop, bright shopping bags from their earlier stops in tow, and headed off to the Starbucks near the food court, where generous Mr. Crowley got them all a drink of their choice. 

“I think I’m gonna stay with Newt for the night,” said Anathema before taking a sip of her iced latte. 

“You are?” All three of the others were surprised 

“Yup,” Anathema looked directly at Newt, who stood there slightly shocked but pleasantly surprised, her eyes begging him to go along with this. “You two can head back to Tadfield if you want. Newt can take me to his place in his car, no worries. We’ll spend the night together, right Newt?” 

Newt quickly perked up at the idea of spending a pleasurable night with his beloved. He was so excited he accidentally slurped up too much of his iced tea, choking on it and turning redder than a stoplight. “Uh yes! Yes yes yes of course!” he finally choked out, both Anathema and Crowley rolling their eyes and letting out an annoyed groan. “Me and Anathema and Dick Turpin! Don’t you boys worry about leaving her with me!” 

“Suit yourselves” said Crowley, taking a loud slurp of his cold brew just to annoy everyone within earshot. 

“Well thank you two lovely young people for the shopping experience today!” Aziraphale’s bright smile made up for Crowley’s rude manners. “I’m glad to have had you all help bring me into the modern era. You two are more than welcome to stop by our cottage at anytime for some tea. Safe travels!” 

Aziraphale waved goodbye to the pair, Crowley taking his hand into his own and the two walking off together in search of the Bentley, with Aziraphale happily humming along to himself as he took light sips from his frappuccino. It was refreshing and delightedly sweet, perfect to take his mind off the dreadful feelings that emerged during their trip. It had been a little while since the angel had indulged in any of his favorite desserts, and this was just the sugary pick me up he needed. It was fine after all, he thought to himself, this wasn’t food and thus wouldn’t affect his corporeal form in any way. Would it? 

* * *

The drive back to the cottage was silent. Not a comfortable kind of silence that they would generally have after a lovely day, no this was not that at all. Rather, this was an uncomfortable and quite dreadful silence, as each one began to remember their evening quarrels, the doubt that had already taken root growing like a weed in their mind. Had moving in together been the right choice to make? Sure, human couples did that all the time once they were certain of their feelings. It was the natural next step, but they were not human, and they had lived apart for longer than the existence of humanity itself.

_ You go too fast for me, Crowley. _

While it had been decades since, those words still echoed in the demon’s mind with every advance he made towards the angel, every playful flirt and loving gesture. Was this going to be the act to push his angel over the edge and away from him for good? He never knew for sure. Crowley had thought that now things would be different. They were free to be with each other as they wished, without interference from the powers that be. Yet the two still found themselves stuck in this unpleasant dance; two steps forward, one step back. Pushing each other away when they got too close, then pulling back in when the distance was growing too long. Crowley had believed it would be this way forever, but then it wasn’t. Suddenly, they had a chance. Why wasn’t Aziraphale taking it? That question ate away at him from within, burning stronger than any physical hunger ever could. Aziraphale couldn’t possibly love a being such as Crowley, could he? Not fully, not really. Aziraphale was made of love and thus made to love everyone and everything. Sure, Crowley had received confirmation this through the angel’s actions and words, but was it possible that the angel loved Crowley as much as he loved the other? Was it the same kind of love? He thought back to the hideous being he saw reflected back at him in the fitting room mirror. There was no way Aziraphale could love _ that. _He had to fix it. At that moment, Crowley decided he would have to put in effort to change his vessel instead of simply denying food and letting time do the rest. No no, he had to speed things up in order to become worthy enough for the angel to love in return. He would waste away as much of his demonic body as possible, become as small and light and non threatening as possible, so that Aziraphale may finally stop being afraid of getting too close to him. 

On the other end of this uncomfortable silence, Aziraphale’s mind was busy yelling at himself over a variety of topics, namely over the state of his own bodily vessel. He was haunted by the sight of his reflection in the fitting room, unbeknownst to him, in the same way Crowley was. That was perhaps the first time he had seen his body reflected back to him so close up. Sure, he owned a full length mirror in the bookshop, but he never looked at himself in it while half naked. For a moment, he looked over to Crowley to try and take his mind off the thought of his size, only to see worry tainting Crowley’s visage as he remained lost in his own thoughts. Aziraphale felt his heart sink. They should be happy that they get to go home _ together, _and yet his beloved looked to be as distressed as he was. Aziraphale remembered the quarrel they had on their first night together in the cottage, and how he simply fell back into his usual routine when things got hard between them; bury his face in a book and stuff himself with food to avoid the guilt sitting at the pit of his stomach. That night he made a silent vow to himself, to prove his undying love to Crowley. In the same way religious humans gave up things they enjoyed for lent, Aziraphale had vowed to do something similar, to give up one of the earthly pleasures he enjoyed the most to prove his love for Crowley. He had fulfilled one part of that promise, Aziraphale had successfully avoided eating for the past 3 days, but he hadn’t yet replaced these meals with expressions of love. He knew that they were free to be together now, but much like everything else, he couldn’t seem to change accordingly. The angel had always had trouble keeping up with change. Yet today, he took a step into the present, albeit with some help and much resistance. 

He thought of their newfound human friends who subtly mirrored Crowley and Aziraphale themselves. Both were meant to be on opposite sides, the witch and the witch-hunter, yet they allowed their feelings for each other to take the lead. Their lives were so short in comparison, their experience paled in comparison to the eras of history both Crowley and Aziraphale had witnessed, but they still had more courage than either of the occult beings. It didn’t seem right, and Aziraphale was embarrassed. Over the course of his time on Earth he had certainly learned quite a lot from humans, he didn’t see why this situation should be any different. He would learn to adapt and let his emotions take the lead, just like Anathema and Newt had done so quickly after the apocalypse hadn’t happened. If he wanted to change his body to be worthy of Crowley’s embrace, then he certainly needed to change his attitude as well. With shopping bags full of modern clothing, and human inspiration in mind, he decided this would be the start of an all new Aziraphale. 

The silence lasted the entire drive back to the cottage, only being interrupted by the sound of doors opening, bags shuffling, and lights flickering on as two supernatural entities made their way into their home. Crowley quickly flung himself onto the sofa, limbs dangling off the furniture as if it offended him to sit properly. Aziraphale went off to the bedroom to arrange his new clothing into the closet. Usually, he liked to put clothing away the old fashioned way, by individually folding and hanging each item rather than miracling them into place. He started to put away a button down shirt, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles caused by being bunched up in a shopping bag, but he couldn’t get Crowley out of his mind. He thought of the demon quietly laying in the living room, worry still tainting those sharp features, and he stopped what he was doing. 

_ Step one. Give up food. Lose weight _

_ Step two. Embrace him. _

It was time he moved onto step two. He promised himself tonight would be the start of a newly reformed Aziraphale. One equipped to deal with the present, and keep up with the speed of his beloved Crowley. He miracled the contents of the shopping bags to be put away neatly into the closet and drawers, and he gathered up the courage to walk into the living room to embrace Crowley. As he entered the room, he took a moment to take in the lovely sight of the demon sprawled out on the sofa, the multicolored light from the television dancing all over his body, bold against the black clothes covering his limbs, making him resemble a crystal under the sunlight, reflecting rainbows at every corner. Aziraphale sat on the armchair beside the sofa, Crowley’s eyes fixed onto the television behind the black circle lenses of his sunglasses. Crowley merely made a small sound to acknowledge the angel’s presence, not a good sign. 

“Ah… uhm… Crowley dear?” Aziraphale’s voice trembled ever so slightly, and he began fidgeting his fingers to try and quell the audible tremor. “C-can we talk?” 

Crowley instantly felt every muscle in his body tense up with fear. Those words never failed to illicit anxiety in any being, occult or otherwise, but he tried to play it off calmly. 

“Sure,” he replied, too afraid to say anything else. 

There was a pause.

“I uh.. I wanted to apologize.” said the angel, Crowley’s brows raised in response, but he kept his gaze firmly fixed onto the television to try and avoid giving his emotions away just yet. 

“What for?” Crowley asked in a nonchalant tone.

“I fear I haven’t been very kind to you as of late. I’m aware that I keep… pushing you away, and I’m terribly sorry for that dear boy.” 

A shock ran through Crowley’s body, bolting him up onto his elbow. He quickly muted the television and turned to look at Aziraphale, who was looking down at his hands tightly clasped together on his lap, thumbs twiddling nervously. It was rare for the angel to ever be so direct, and even rarer for him to discuss their feelings for each other. These weren’t yet the words Crowley expected to hear, but he knew it was a step in the right direction. 

“Why do you do it?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper. 

Aziraphale’s eyes flickered up for a moment, catching a glimpse of Crowley staring at him from behind dark sunglasses before he spoke. “Habit I suppose.” he gave a small nervous chuckle. 

“I couldn’t ever let myself get too close for fear of what could happen to us if any of our respective offices found out. Now… well, now that danger is no longer looming over our heads, but… Ah.. well, I can’t seem to get out of the habit quite yet.” 

Crowley felt immensely relieved at hearing Aziraphale admit this. For a moment there, he genuinely feared that Aziraphale would say something about how repulsive his demonic essence was. Confusion followed relief, as he had no idea what to say in response to this confession, but luckily Aziraphale broke the silence again. 

“Could we.. try again?” he asked, referring to the ill fated night in the bookshop.

“Try what again, angel?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. He pursed his lips together without a word, taking a short moment to think, before slowly reaching his trembling hands out towards Crowley’s sunglasses. His fingers pressed where the legs of the sunglasses began, he held them there a moment, and then ever so gently pulled them away from Crowley’s face. The demon’s body tensed up once more as he could feel his protective shell being pulled away, revealing his true emotions written in his serpentine eyes to be read like an open book by an angelic bibliophile. 

Vulnerability. 

The two stood there in silence and awe, looking into each others eyes for what felt simultaneously like an eternity and no time at all. Aziraphale set the sunglasses down on his lap and then he reached his hands back up towards Crowley’s face. This time he placed his plush palms against the demon’s sharp cheekbones, gently cupping Crowley’s face, and slowly pulling him closer. Aziraphale looked directly into Crowley’s eyes as the distance between them diminished, losing himself into pools of glittering liquid gold surrounded by prisms of smooth fair skin flickering rainbows of multicolored light radiating from the product of the collective imagination of mortals on the television set. Every fear the angel had once held onto seemed to dissolve, burned away by the fiery golden irises he looked into. Now momentarily free from the anxieties of ‘what if’ Aziraphale closed his eyes, and with that closed the distance between him and Crowley as well. His lips lightly fluttering onto Crowley’s like a butterfly landing on a flower in full bloom at the height of summer. A kiss, warm, light, and full of longing, sealing the envelope on 6 millenia of pining, and he slowly pulled back. 

Aziraphale’s lips had felt like the whisper of a soft tropical breeze, and Crowley couldn’t believe what was happening. This was not the first kiss they shared, but it was the first one that had been done sober and with purpose. Crowley blinked in awe and he now stared at the angel’s face which stood a mere centimeters away from his own. A bevy of emotions flickered across Aziraphale’s face, changing with the colored light from the tv that danced on his angelic skin. Bliss, relief, fear, worry, all coming and going in fractions of a second. In the dim lighting he still managed to catch a glimpse of a slight blush blooming on the angel’s chubby cheeks like a rose in the spring, his lips still slightly parted with residual longing on his tongue. Crowley reached a hand up and let it rest on top of Aziraphale’s own, which was still pressed against his cheek, soft and warm. He let it linger there for a second, before slowly sliding the angel’s hand off the side of his face, and curling it into his grasp beneath his long bony fingers. Crowley gave it a gentle tug, signaling to Aziraphale to come closer. He shifted his body, pushing up from the elbow he was leaning on, and sitting upright to make room for Aziraphale to sit beside him on the sofa. As if by some sort of miracle, Aziraphale did not resist. There was no push back, no completion of the painful dance they had performed for millenia. No, Aziraphale silently followed Crowley’s desire, leaning in for another kiss. Their bodies were closer this time, and they could feel the warmth radiating off each other as their lips came together once more. This kiss was tighter, longer, less chaste, and their lips burned with the desire they had accumulated over the span of 6,000 years. Every decision, every action, every gesture of rebellion, lead them to this moment together.

Neither of them knew how long they had kept their lips locked in embrace, but when they finally broke the kiss Aziraphale spoke softly, his nose only a hair’s width away from Crowley’s.

“Can we take it slow, my dear?” Aziraphale whispered 

Crowley nodded in return “Just hit the breaks on me whenever you’d like, angel.” 

“You’ve always gone fast, but you’ve never gone the wrong way.” the two giggled in unison and Aziraphale kissed Crowley again. 

This third kiss was a little faster, but not as fast as the first. It was playful, giddy, and excited. Aziraphale’s lips soon wandered off, pressing themselves against Crowley’s cheekbone first, then brushing gently down until they reached Crowley’s jaw, where the angel pressed another loving kiss. He breathed in his lover’s scent, musk and brimstone with a subtle hint of smoke and sulfur. Crowley let out a small noise between a moan and whimper as Aziraphale’s lips wandered past his jaw and onto his neck, peppering kisses down the length of his neck as gentle and quick as the flutter of a butterfly. When Aziraphale finally reached the base of Crowley’s neck he pulled his lips away and lay down his head on Crowley’s shoulder. 

“Angel” whispered Crowley as he pressed his face against the top of Aziraphale’s head, burying his nose into a meadow of lightly fragrant blonde curls as soft as clouds against a peaceful blue sky. 

“My angel” Crowley whispered again, and closed his eyes. This was heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raise your hand if you've ever been personally victimized by a fitting room
> 
> *cough* please read my Crowley was Raphael fic *cough* https://archiveofourown.org/works/20372062/chapters/48312439


	6. Gilded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale reminisces in the days of yore and Crowley gets an unpleasant reminder of his demonic nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya. sorry for the long time between updates. I've been off writing other good omens related nonsense, oops. If you're interested in reading some tooth rotting fluff [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933498/chapters/49767086)
> 
> If you want some demon!aziraphale [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21119243)
> 
> As always, heavy trigger warnings apply. Food. Body dysmorphia. self depreciation. Stay safe<3

The pair remained in their embrace, completely unaware of time itself as they dared to snuggle closer to each other, pressing their lips against each other and then shyly venturing into other areas. Aziraphale loved the feel of Crowley’s sharp jaw against his lips, the slope leading up to his cheekbones, and the valleys made by his clavicles. The scent of musk, brimstone, and a faint hint of sulfur lingered on the demon’s skin. Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley’s fiery locks, smooth as silk, causing low hisses of delight to occasionally emerge from the demon. That night, though summer still had Tadfield in its grasp, Aziraphale was warmed by the faint glow of hellfire radiating from Crowley’s body snuggled up against his own.

Meanwhile, Crowley indulged himself in the luxurious feel of Aziraphale’s presence. He adored the feel of pressing his lips against the angel’s plump cheeks, soft and warm. Crowley’s long fingers brushed through a meadow of pale blonde curls that felt like a fluffy cloud in late spring. The angel’s skin held the scent of a crisp citrus cologne, with the faint heavenly scent of morning sunshine and lavender fields. Their pace was slow, shy, and chaste. As Crowley had learned many years ago; going slow could bring the same level of thrill as going too fast. He could savour his angel slowly, deliberately, the same way Aziraphale enjoyed a dessert. They had the rest of eternity to touch, to kiss, to find all the different ways to love. 

They remained in their delicate embrace until the first rays of sunlight poured in from the windows, signaling just how much time they had spent lost in each other’s arms. 

“Perhaps we should get up.” Aziraphale whispered as he looked up at Crowley, his thumb absentmindedly stroking Crowley’s jaw. 

“Ngk, I don’t want to.” replied Crowley, brushing a hand through the angel’s hair. 

Aziraphale smiled “I don’t want to either.” He pressed his lips against Crowley’s chin and he murmured “But we can find another way to continue. Maybe outside? Enjoy the trees and each other. Let the world witness our adoration. We don’t have to hide inside anymore.” 

Crowley couldn’t help but smile. Such a prideful suggestion coming from a holy being was a beautiful irony in the morning glow. 

“Alright angel,” he whispered back, “If you want to be shown off to the world, then that’s what we will do. I want everyone to see how radiant you are when you’re this happy.” 

Slowly, regretfully, the two untangled themselves and got up from the sofa. Their bodies were separated for only the briefest of moments, but that was already more than enough to send Crowley’s hand scrambling out in a panic to reach Aziraphale’s own hand, as if he were afraid to let go. With their fingers intertwined once more, Crowley began to gently tug Aziraphale towards their bedroom, 

“Let’s dress you up.” said Crowley “Don’t let that shopping trip be a waste. I want to see you out and about matching up with the modern world.” 

Aziraphale gave a little giggle and he blushed. “Oh alright. I suppose I shouldn’t let yesterday’s efforts be for naught.” 

As soon as they entered the bedroom Crowley picked up the shopping bags that had been left behind, and he quickly emptied their contents onto the bed. He began to analyze the garments spread out in front of him, thinking about how to dress his angel for the day, but his train of thought was swiftly interrupted by said angel speaking in a commanding tone. 

“Oh Crowley, I can dress myself you know!” Aziraphale laughed.

“Angeeeel,” Crowley groaned “I know you can, but I wanna have some fun.” 

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about! You wily old serpent, I know your tricks! If I let you have all the fun I will likely end up more decorated than a faberge egg. No thank you, I shall experiment with the modern clothing on my own.” 

Crowley pouted, but of course Aziraphale was right. If Crowley were to have control, he would ensure to make his angel appear as tempting and distracting as possible. However, Aziraphale noted the pout and popped in an interesting comment. 

“Although… I suppose that someday you  _ can  _ dress me up.” he said, looking down at the bed to try and hide his flushing visage “As long as only you get to see me.” 

Still a bit hazy and love drunk from last night, it took Crowley a bit of time to process that comment and then fully react to it. By the time Crowley had looked up to reply with something witty Aziraphale was already hidden away in the adjacent bathroom, the sound of garments being ruffled about could be faintly heard through the door. Shortly after Aziraphale emerged from behind the door dressed in a sky blue shirt with pearly white buttons leading up to the neck. It was the kind with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a button snapping the rolled up fabric in place. He donned his favorite tartan bow-tie, which paired nicely with the cream colored shorts, resting just barely over his knee. Aziraphale casually reached out to the small pile of garments and accessories that covered the bed, and he picked out a small flat top straw hat that had a tartan ribbon around it. 

“You ruffled my hair quite a bit through the night. If I tried to tame it after hours of petting we wouldn’t ever leave the cottage!” Aziraphale giggled and settled the hat atop his head, leaving a few blonde curls sprawling out wildly.

He looked directly at Crowley, clasped his hands together in front of him, and he straightened his posture. 

“How do I look?” he asked, a proud smile decorating his lips. 

_ This is the start of a new angel. This is for Crowley. This is to leave behind the world we inhabited before the end never happened. This is the start of a modern angel for modern times. I’m  _ ** _Crowley’s _ ** _ angel now.  _

From the moment Aziraphale returned to the bedroom Crowley’s eyes were glued to him, watching his every move. He now stood there, dumbfounded, and he blinked his eyes a few times as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It had been thousands of years since Aziraphale had last worn clothing which exposed this much of his skin. Perhaps the last time Crowley saw Aziraphale’s exposed arms was when the angel was sporting a toga in Rome. Aziraphale’s pale skin nearly glowed in the morning sunlight, thick arms lightly dusted in the finest blonde fuzz giving his skin the slightest hint of gold, contrasting ever so nicely against the sky blue fabric. The flat top straw hat now covered the angel’s fluffy curls, framing his soft face perfectly, and highlighting those wide cerulean eyes that seemed to glitter in anticipation. 

“You look incredible.” Crowley finally replied, his voice a whisper, Aziraphale’s beauty was enough to render him breathless. He stared long enough that his vision began to blur, creating a soft vignette around Aziraphale, making him look all the more glorious. 

“Do you really think so?” Aziraphale asked shyly. 

“Of course angel.” Crowley cautiously approached Aziraphale, arms extended, as if he feared that last night had been but a dream. He gently placed his arms on the angel’s shoulders, slowly sliding himself closer. “You’re a delight to behold.” 

At this point Crowley’s nose was just a hair’s width away from Aziraphale’s. So he took the liberty of sliding his hands around Crowley’s narrow waist, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. “Thank you dear boy.” whispered Aziraphale. “Now then, let’s get you all dolled up too.” 

* * *

The pair made their way to a cozy local diner for breakfast, a slight hint of pink perpetually flushed Aziraphale’s cheeks as residents saw his attire and smiled at him. Meanwhile Crowley’s lips were fixed in a smug grin, pleased with all the subtle attention his angel was attracting. Everything seemed to be tickety boo, as Aziraphale would say. That was, until breakfast was served. The two sat there as they had many times before in many restaurants over many eras, but something was off. Crowley became more and more agitated as time passed, going from his usual faux grumpy demeanor, to shifting in his seat every 5 seconds or so. Aziraphale couldn’t help but wonder what was bothering his beloved, and over pancakes he began to fear that it was somehow his fault. Had he been too forward last night? Or perhaps held back too much? The angel remained lost in his thoughts, only to be pulled back into the present when Crowley nudged a plate full of sickeningly sweet waffles against his hands. 

“What’s this?” asked Aziraphale 

“You always go for seconds angel.” replied Crowley, a hint of annoyance in his tone of voice. 

Reluctantly, Aziraphale began to nibble away at the strawberry covered waffles that seemed to work miracles on his current anxieties. Crowley seemed to only grow more upset by the minute. When they finished up (or rather when Aziraphale finished eating on behalf of both of them and Crowley finished an entire pot of coffee) Crowley wordlessly marched out the door of the cozy establishment, nearly bumping into a waitress on the way. He seemed to be in a hurry. 

Once they were outside, all worry was gone for a fraction of a second, as Aziraphale marveled at how the warm morning sun glittered through Crowley’s flame like locks. For a mere fraction of a second, all was perfect, just like last night. 

“Oh Crowley look! There’s a milliner’s shop just over there! I haven’t seen many in London for quite some time now. Perhaps they’ll be able to make me a fancy new hat like in the old days!” Aziraphale beamed in delight, already taking a few steps forward when he was suddenly stopped by one simple word. 

“No.” 

Crowley stood there and scowled. The sunglasses made it hard to tell where he was looking, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he regarded the milliner’s shop with contempt or if he was seeing something beyond their immediate surroundings. 

“N-no?” Aziraphale said shyly. 

“No.” Crowley repeated “I’m going to head home angel. I need a nap. But you can go right ahead and then tell me all about it later tonight. Mind how you go.” 

Before Aziraphale could protest, Crowley was already walking in the opposite direction, returning to the cottage alone. 

_Shit shit shit shit!_

* * *

As soon as Crowley believed to be safely out of Aziraphale’s sight he began to quicken his pace. By the time he was around the corner from the cottage he was at a near sprint, and when he closed the front gate behind him, he ran the final steps into the door and out of sight. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” yelled Crowley, melting to the ground just two steps away from the door. 

His entire body was uncomfortably itchy, and his skin felt too tight. Even sitting still felt irritating and uncomfortable, with the sensation only growing worse as the minutes ticked by. Slowly, the demon pulled himself off the floor and he clumsily swaggered his way into the bathroom, bumping into every piece of furniture on the way. When he finally found his way in, Crowley pulled off his sunglasses, letting them rest at the edge of the sink, as he regarded himself in the mirror. His blurred reflection only confirmed his worst fears. Staring back at the demon was a pair of clouded bluish-grey eyes. Crowley was beginning to shed. 

An inconvenience that came with the fall, Crowley would shed his serpentine form every couple of decades or so. In Hell, the process was surprisingly easy, and he could simply bask in a bath of boiling sulfur to help the process along the way. However, on Earth, the process was irritating, vulnerable, and painfully slow in comparison. The same way Crowley had to be wearing a body which mimics human forms in order to be visible on Earth, his serpentine form was also confined to processes which mimicked that of an Earthly snake. 

His shed was a year or two early, but the past decade had been a stressful one, which seemed to cause his shedding to happen a bit sooner than anticipated. Crowley cringed away from the mirror, bumping into the door as he stumbled his way onto the bed, reduced to a whimpering mess. It had been several thousand years since Aziraphale had seen Crowley in his snake form, with the exception of the night they moved into the cottage, which only resulted in an unpleasant night for both of them. Most importantly, Aziraphale had never seen Crowley shed. The angel likely didn’t even know that Crowley  _ did  _ in fact shed just like natural, non demonic nor occult, snakes. 

After Eden, Crowley would usually slip away into a cave or burrow a place for himself hidden amongst the plantlife, and wait for the ordeal to be over. With the rise in civilizations, Crowley began the habit of locking himself away in his current abode until he was done shedding. The advent of permanent (in human terms) housing made it easier to shed, as he could hoard little comforts, and run himself a hot bath to help things along. Aziraphale never found out about this process as the two would often go weeks, months, and sometimes even years without seeing each other at first. It was only the birth of the antichrist which allowed them to spend more time in close proximity. Crowley thought that he wouldn’t have it any other way, that he wouldn’t want to be away from his angel for a second, but he was wrong. 

No, Crowley was not at all ready to let Aziraphale see him in such a repulsive state, skin flaking off and eyes trapped in a thick fog. Apparently, neither was his body, for where there once was a man shaped being laying on the bed it was now replaced with a large black snake. Crowley hadn’t even felt the switch happen and he only noticed when he tried to get off of the bed and found that he no longer had limbs to pry him up. Crowley let out an annoyed hiss as he noted the sudden inconvenience, and he begrudgingly slithered away. 

  
  


Aziraphale stood there in front of their breakfast spot, absolutely dumbfounded. Everything seemed to be going so well. They had finally shared an intimate evening together, embracing each other in ways they had only dreamed of before, lost in their romance till sunrise. Crowley seemed positively smitten and eager to spend the day with Aziraphale exploring the quaint village they now called home. It just didn’t make sense. What had he missed? Why was Crowley so quick to abandon him after all those sweet nothings? Why was Crowley so adamant on being alone? 

With a heavy heart Aziraphale made his way to the milliner’s shop that had caught his attention. Although he no longer held the same enthusiasm, he could still use the distraction. Whatever he had done to upset Crowley certainly wouldn’t be solved with Aziraphale smothering the demon after he had just marched off. If Crowley wanted some alone time, then that’s exactly what Aziraphale would give him. 

Just a few steps away from the shop’s entrance, something caught Aziraphale’s eye. The bright morning sun glinted off the shop’s display window, creating a light mirrored reflection of anybody who happened to pass by, and it this time it just so happened to be a surprised angel. Aziraphale hadn’t seen himself dressed this way. Sure, he saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror early this morning, but it wasn’t the same as seeing him out and about, dressed with the times. Aziraphale turned this way and that, regarding himself in the window’s reflection. He quite liked these new clothes. They were light and comfortable, and allowed him to feel the summer’s warmth on his skin. However, the light loose fabric sat atop his figure in a way he deemed unflattering. Aziraphale swore that he could already see this morning’s breakfast on his waistline, and he didn’t like how thick his calves were; exposed by the shorts.

Staring at his plump figure in the reflection prompted an unsavory thought. What if that was why Crowley had walked away? What if he was disgusted by how gluttonous Aziraphale was? He was supposed to be an angel,  _ Crowley’s angel.  _ He was Crowley’s piece of heaven, a slice of redemption after the fall. Certainly Crowley would like Aziraphale to be a representation of the heavenly home he was unjustly cast out from. No, Crowley  _ deserved  _ to feel close to heaven. Crowley deserved to feel at home. Aziraphale wanted to be his home. Crowley who worked so hard and risked so much for the angel. On Earth, Aziraphale had found a home, and had it not been for Crowley he would have lost it, to be replaced with the cold judging glares of his angelic siblings, and their unwelcoming arms. 

Though hats had nothing to do with bodily figure, Aziraphale now felt far too discouraged to bother going inside. With a little sigh of defeat, the angel turned away and walked mindlessly down the street, hoping for some form of distraction. There was a small bookshop that caught his attention, only for it to remind him of his own shop in Soho which he had given up for Tadfield. It shouldn’t bring him such sorrow. He had a good home here in Tadfield, alongside the demon he loved the most. They even managed to bring all his beloved books along. Books that for decades he valiantly, and ironically, defended from potential customers. Running a bookshop was no good for him if he never intended to sell books, yet somehow he felt the nostalgia welling up within, threatening to pour out in the form of tears. 

Up ahead there was a bakery which radiated warmth and love for as far as any occult being could sense. The air surrounding it was thick with the smell of bread and sugar, tickling Aziraphale’s nose and tempting him to walk inside. The angel’s growing sorrow begged him for the familiar comfort of warm baked goods, but his faltering self esteem said otherwise. It seemed as if Aziraphale’s sudden sadness only grew with each step. That was until he saw a locale that seemed oddly out of place. In contrast to the village-esque architecture of the surrounding businesses, this one looked sharp and modern, as if it had been pulled right out of the city centre. It was a spinning studio, and inside were oodles of attractive young figures finishing up their morning class, their lean bodies glossy with sweat. 

Aziraphale wasn’t brave enough to waltz in there with his well fed form, but it did give him an idea. A bicycle. He had been meaning to perhaps take up some exercise to help reduce his softness, and cycling would be a good way to start. It had been quite some time since Aziraphale had last ridden a bicycle, back then they were simply known to him as velocipedes. He could miracle one up, but he wasn’t quite sure what parts made up a modern bicycle. The last time he tried with Anathema’s bicycle, he had gotten carried away and added unnecessary parts. Perhaps there was a shop nearby. There should be, as the town saw quite a bit of people cycling their way around, and of course The Them had their own bicycles to carry them around as they went about their summer mischief. 

A few minutes of wandering around and Aziraphale saw the shop he was looking for just up ahead. He eagerly walked in and was greeted by a soft jingling of bells, reminiscent of the bells he had in his old bookshop. There were bicycles of all shapes and colors stacked to the roof, decorating the walls, and standing at either side of him. It was quite a sight to behold. 

“Good day to you sir! Can I help you?” said a voice coming from behind a nearby stack full of bicycles. 

Aziraphale turned to face the voice which belonged to a small old man with a large handlebar moustache and an oddly shaped tartan hat. 

“Ah! Yes thank you kindly sir.” Aziraphale smiled, amused by the man’s seemingly old fashioned nature which matched the angel’s own manners. “I was looking to purchase a bicycle of my own. Thought I should take advantage of the fair weather while I still can!” 

“That you’re right!” the old man replied with a chuckle “Come this way. I think these styles are suitable for a gentleman like yourself.” 

Aziraphale followed behind with a happy little hum and a sudden spring in his step. Finally, a ray of joy in this unexpectedly depressing morning. The man lead Aziraphale towards the back and he stopped at the wall on the right side of the shop which held an assortment of shiny looking bicycles in a range of pastel shades. 

“This is our classic collection, though it’s mostly cruisers. Here on the right we have the standard Gents Cruiser, and next to it the 7 speed Gents Cruiser. Next to that we have some more sporty models if that tickles your fancy.” 

The man droned on and on, but Aziraphale had his gaze fixed on one model in particular. It looked comfortable, with a slow slope, creme colored body, and a twine basket at the front. It was absolutely endearing, and it reminded Aziraphale of the mid 1950s, with ladies cycling around town in summer dresses, scrambling to hide in his shop for a flirtatious game of hide and seek with the local lads. 

“How about this one?” Aziraphale interrupted. 

“Oh that? That’s uh, that’s the Ladies 7 speed model. It’s quite nice for riding around Tadfield. The different speeds can take you anywhere from the paved streets to the dirt trails through the meadows. We have the Gents model just over here in a nice strong blue shade.” 

“No need. I’ll take this one.” Aziraphale said, his eyes practically twinkling with excitement. 

A mere minutes later and he was off, towing his new bicycle alongside him through the streets. It had been decades since Aziraphale had last ridden a bicycle, but if he had managed to once ride a penny farthing with ease then he should be able to manage nicely with this. Aziraphale towed his bicycle out of the village centre and into more vacant streets, ensuring there was less he could bump into just in case, and he took off. In the first few moments he struggled to get the handles under control, but all it took was a minute and some concentration for the angel to soon be cycling smoothly through town. 

Despite his earlier protests of his hair being in an indecent state, Aziraphale quickly pulled off his hat and stuffed it in the basket hanging off the bicycle handles. Once it was safely tucked away he began to speed up, feeling the wind blow through his hair and kiss his cheeks as he cycled out of town and towards the meadows near the woods. It reminded him of the late 1890s, when modern looking bicycles had become all the rage. When Gibson Girls turned heads for emulating American styles and Aziraphale would walk right past their giggling groups as he made his way towards the discreet gentlemen’s club he fondly frequented. While he missed Crowley terribly during the 19th century, Aziraphale had managed to stir up quite a storm out of sheer boredom and lack of companionship from the demon. His debauchery just barely went unnoticed by his superiors in heaven, but that was all part of the fun. It was Aziraphale’s golden age, or rather, his gilded age. Only through the lens of nostalgia did that era glitter, for it was still comprised of unsavoury episodes and even more unsavoury environments. 

After 2 hours or so of giddily cycling through Tadfield, Aziraphale’s spirits were high once more. He made his way back to the cottage, looking quite disheveled, but feeling absolutely tickety boo, as he would put it. Aziraphale’s cheeks were flushed bright pink from cycling around and laughing at his own memories. His hair was wild and sticking out in odd places after having been carefully coiffed by the wind and brushed by the low hanging branches of a few trees. His clothing was wrinkled and dirty, showing where he had stumbled through the dirt trails in the woods and laughed in the grass over his clumsiness. He was sure Crowley would get a good kick out of seeing his angel coming home looking like a child after a long afternoon of playing in the backyard. 

Once he opened the door to the cottage, Aziraphale’s mood dropped. Crowley was nowhere to be found, he could feel it. Aziraphale frantically searched the cottage but there was no sign of the demon, not even in the garden or amongst the books in the chalet. All that was left of Crowley were his favourite pair of sunglasses sitting on the edge of the bathroom sink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay LISTEN, i know he's taking up cycling out of bad reasons BUT if we could just cut that out and focus on this scenario: Happy Aziraphale cycling through Tadfield with a happy snake!Crowley sitting in the basket.
> 
> I PROMISE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE SOFT. 
> 
> (anyway I'm obsessed with snake!crowley lmao goodbye)

**Author's Note:**

> Yall actually believe that after denying each other and themselves for 6,000 fucking years these two idiots would just go ahead and fuck the night of the armageddidn't? I have to laugh.


End file.
